The Golden
by Words-drip-from-my-fingertips
Summary: She remains ever Valiant. He remains ever young. She grows up, then goes back, grows up, then goes back. He doesn't know what to make of her, she breaks all the normal rules. But then again, so does he. All children must grow up. Lucy Pevensie/Peter Pan. CH 11: A discussion on growth. CH 15: Susan, Lucy, and the will of Aslan.
1. Diplomats and Dancing

_The golden-haired queen was the epitome of freedom and youth. Wherever her light footsteps pattered laughter spread like mist. Her long, wild locks often were filled with forgotten twigs and leaves, but none would ever have thought her less lovely for them. She thought naught of growing up, only of goodness, love, and dancing. She thought naught of politics, only of bare feet, adventures, and warmth. None could ever rival the sunshine that she brought to a room, except, perhaps, Aslan himself._

Lucy found diplomatic meetings a bore, and really a rather silly joke. They were so formal, no one called each other by their first names and it was all "Lord," this and "High King," that, and "My esteemed brother," and Lucy couldn't stand it. That's not to say that she did not often address her siblings by their titles, for she did. But she did it in familiarity, not because of formality. No one ever said what they really meant in these discussions, and where in Aslan's name was the fun in that? Anyone who had known Lucy for any period of time would know that she _always _said what she meant and meant what she said. She had not yet learned that as we grow up, we must learn to guard our tongues. For our thoughts are not so good as those of a child, and many of them, we find, should not be spoken at all.

The emissaries who encountered her were usually quickly persuaded to her view of matters, if only for a moment. How could they not be, with her dazzling smiles, cartwheels, and skipping away? Lucy did not often realize the captivating effect she had on people, because she was always so utterly devoted to being herself and not caring what others had to say about it. On occasion, the siblings had found it to be detrimental to have her about when representatives were also. She had, once or twice, been so thoroughly _Lucy_ upon acquaintance with a foreign diplomat, that the visitor would forget his purpose entirely. It would fly from his head as he was sucked into the whirlwind that was the youngest royal.

The remainder of such visits usually involved the constant need to pry their guest's eyes away from the enigmatic, golden haired child, and reminding them that there was business to attend to. It would not be amiss to say that as the years continued to pass, this particular issue seemed only to grow more severe, but I'll get to that later.

Initially, it was simply a matter of fact that all four monarchs would be present at any negotiations or peace talks, unless occupied by other significant duties. But after the very first ambassadorial conference of the Pevensies' rule, Lucy was never required to attend another. The siblings were apt to ensure that she was otherwise occupied, to her great amusement and delight. It would be unfair to say the first meeting was a disaster, but the original intention of the gathering was never fulfilled.

It was not that Lucy did not care for peace, for she cared a great deal. But the littlest queen usually had her mind made up about a character before even hearing them speak. Some even said that she had the intuition of the Great Lion in her. She had a quaint habit of looking at a chap and saying, "He has a kind face,"

"If only he would smile more often, I'd like him rather more!"

"He brings good news."

"I expect the centaurs have frightened him out of his wits!"

And, in the rare instance, "He will be nothing but trouble."

And from these observations she often (correctly) deduced the outcome of any negotiations. She had a knack for picking out sincerity in one's tone, expression, and manner. Lucy had no patience for artificiality. Unfortunately, as guest diplomats tended, on the whole, to be roundabout, unimaginative fellows, she was not often overly interested in debating with them. She sought out more entertaining ways to spend her time.

Lucy was not present when their first guest initially arrived, so the family of sovereigns (minus one) greeted the ambassador at the gates. Trusting that the youngest was already present in the throne room, which had been collectively decided was also to be used for meetings, the group set out towards it. Upon entrance to the throne room with the envoy, however, all were stopped short. There they beheld Lucy, humming and stamping and twirling around the room with the hem of her dress caked in fresh mud. Her small feet were shoeless, and made little slapping noises as she leaped about the polished, and previously spotless stone floor.

The infamous muddy hems that were likely to one day send Susan to an early grave from embarrassment came from Lucy's nearly daily adventures chatting with the Naiads. And her shoes—well, somehow no matter how many pairs of satin slippers or sturdy boots were supplied to her, she managed to lose them. Edmund suspected that she hid them, but would never reveal that suspicion to Susan. Lucy wouldn't say a word if she was found out, she would just look at him with those wide, mournful, reproachful eyes and turn him to mush.

Said eyes brightened when she became conscious of them standing there, and she ran to meet them without delay. Her eyelids fluttered closed and she did a little twirl in front of the speechless group as if presenting herself. With closed eyes and a charming little sway, she held out her hands in front of her. Her cornflowers shot open and decided on a target, by merit of who was standing directly in front of her. Grasping the company by both his hands with no explanation, she pulled the startled Archenlander away from the group and spun him for a good minute, before abandoning him to his dizziness.

Her next victims were Susan and Peter, who protested quite violently. But no one has ever been able to resist Lucy and her antics for long, and her giggles drowned them out. Her eldest two siblings frequently would endeavor to tame her, and look on in fond frustration when they inevitably failed. Edmund would never dare to think himself capable of such a task, and instead left her to her whims, and allowed her light heart to temper his solemnity.

After several vigorous twirls, she left the Golden Crowns leaning against the wall, attempting to reorient themselves. The eyes of the Just King were already twinkling when it came to be his turn. They clasped hands, with an understanding gleam of wickedness passing between the two, before they proceeded to gallop across the entire length of the room with much gusto. They whooped and hollered at the top of their lungs, and soon half the castle stood at the ornate doors of the throne room (for in the royals' astonishment they had neglected to close them). The people marveled and cheered at the spectacle of the Silver Crowns dancing carelessly with bright smiles and a tornado of energy.

For if there is one thing you should know about the Cair, it is that all of its inhabitants were generally on Lucy's side, and had an especial fondness for the girl. She was easy to talk to (when there was any talking at all), and even if one had the greatest intention of being grumpy all day, it would vanish soon after encountering Queen Lucy. Many have attempted to withstand her magnetism and very few have succeeded. Lucy would later learn to use this skill to her advantage, but for now she could no more control or harness it than she could control her hopelessly knotted curls.

When the younger two siblings finally collapsed to the ground panting, applause came from the wide open doors of the room. Lucy propped herself up on her elbows, stared at the crowd for a moment and then laughed.

"How did we do?" She shouted.

A scattering of, "Very well," "Never seen better," "Even the Fauns would be impressed," was heard and then the onlookers began to disperse.

Edmund piped up from his spread eagle position on the floor, "Best romp I've had this week, Lu, well done!"

Lucy declared, "We should have a reward!" she paused, thinking, "I dare say we ought to have ourselves some tea."

Edmund snorted from the ground beside her, "You say the oddest things, Lu."

She turned to look at him, "Well, it is an excellent idea, isn't it?"

Edmund laughed, "You know me, I'm starved. Tea always sounds excellent."

They laughed together for moment before Lucy propped herself up and glanced at Edmund with curiosity, "Why, Ed, when _does_ that Archenland fellow get here?"

He sputtered "_Really_, Lu!" and gestured helplessly to a slightly green Peter and Susan, and their now befuddled guest, who—if you had asked Lucy—was gaping quite shamelessly at her.

She followed his motion, and her eyes widened in delight at the bedraggled visitor. "Oh, well I've rather ruined things, haven't I?" She asked cheerfully.

"Perhaps we might still salvage our dignity as mighty rulers," came Edmund's dry comment.

"No, we've lost all chance of pretending to be stuffy and proper, whatever shall we do?" Here she pursed her lips and distinctly turned her nose up towards the ceiling in a snobbish manner.

Peter groaned loudly, and Susan's gentle reproach followed, "Lucy!"

"What?" she retorted, "It's probably the first fun thing he's done all day!" Here she turned to look at the man himself, "Isn't it?"

Susan moved towards their guest, eager to smooth the first impression, "I do apologize on behalf of my dear sister, she isn't always like this—"

Here, Peter cut in, "Now, Su! Don't give him false hope!"

Lucy nodded along gravely, "It's true. My royal siblings truly cannot be blamed. For you see, I'm _quite_ unmanageable. I'm still not certain why they allow me indoors."

Edmund piped up, "Because otherwise we would all perish from a deadly combination of boredom and the High King's terrible jokes."

* * *

"A lot we could do!" said Edmund, "when we haven't even got anything to eat!"

_Chapter 6_

"How Edmund hoped she was going to say something about breakfast!"

_Chapter 11_

"And they entered into friendship and alliance with countries beyond the sea and paid them visits of state and received visits of state from them."

"But as for Lucy, she was always gay and golden-haired..."

_Chapter 17_

_The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe_

**I will try my very best throughout this tale to keep all characters accurate to their originals, but as this is a fic, there will be some wavering. Please feel free to call me out on it, though! I love to know there are other fans devoted to the original stories.**

**Do let me know what you think so far! I know it's short and doesn't give the story right away, but don't worry, I'll get there.**

**Words-drip-from-my-fingertips**


	2. Daisy Curiosity

Lucy was of a rare variety of people, the type we no longer see so often. She felt deeply in all things, especially for others, but though she did feel sorrow at times, she never let it drag her down. She was perpetually optimistic and joyful. Being around her was like basking in the presence of a star (some who had enjoyed the pleasure of this particular experience knew it for a fact), and one couldn't help but become a little more joyful just by way of being near her.

Now, children are a little different than Grown-Up People, but even happy children will whine, pout, and cry. Lucy was never that sort of child. In fact, one was in danger of forgetting altogether at times that she might need comfort. She was by no means perfect, make no mistake. There were times that she was impatient, unkind, or selfish. Unlike most, however, she had a special connection with Aslan that allowed her to see the world through clear eyes, and she often acknowledged her own shortcomings, ready to repent.

The joy she carried was a piece of Aslan, and in this way she brought Aslan to those around her. Lucy was an ambassador of Aslan in the simplest and most basic sense. She didn't have to speak to represent Him. He soaked through all of her love filled actions into the recipients. She was a vessel of the Emperor, she served merely by living.

The Valiant girl-queen often scampered, in her frequent escapades, to the playful waves of the radiant sea, and frolicked there without a care. She felt that the sea was hers and hers alone (though she couldn't really keep it _all_ to herself), and there she went when joy was all she felt. For it is said that the Emperor and his son, Aslan, come from beyond the eastern sea, and she always felt a deeper connection to them when she was looking out at it. The water would lap at her toes as she sang it the songs of hopeful and mournful lovers. These she learned from the mischievous dryads. They had no concept of age and were notorious romantics. As a child, Lucy sang these learned verses because they sounded pretty. Later, she would sing them because she meant them.

Sometimes, Lucy would dive deep into the waves, clad in only her chemise, abandoning her adventure worn clothing on the shore. She liked to play that she was searching for mermaids who she imagined were too shy to come to the surface and reveal themselves. Lucy had not forgotten the day of their coronation only a few months prior, when the eastern door had been flung open to the sea (her sea), and the merpeople had sung for them. She dreamed of one day finding them beneath the foaming blue-green waves.

If she was not there, then the dim green light of the woods would find her, clinging to the branches of the trees and darting through the underbrush. She was very rarely indoors when she could help it. Lucy could still remember England with its stuffy schools, where she couldn't have her lessons outdoors even when the weather was pleasant. She remembered long hours spent indoors, looking out of windows and longing to be on the other side of them. The Queen Lucy was assured that when the necessary but dreaded lessons were resumed (_school_ still exists in Narnia), they would happen out-of-doors as often as in.

The foliage and mossy floor knew her almost as well as the seaweed and warm sand between her toes. The woods that whispered housed her friends. All the creatures she loved dearly there lived, and the trees were her companions on her walks. With the fauns and satyrs she danced their wild dances, and teased the naiads in their streams. She wore her own winding paths that wove through the endless woods, leading her anywhere and everywhere.

Whenever those tiny feet (for she _was _only eight years old) ventured into the forest shade, everything jumped to life. It was like the woods themselves could sense her presence, and had been waiting on bated breath for her return. The birds sang more earnestly, the greenery perked up, dumb wildlife would peek out at her from behind trees, and the Talking Beasts would come out from their hidey-holes to greet her. The trees themselves would stretch and yawn and begin moving about. The dryads sometimes seemed to be waiting just for her. The life of the forest could feel Aslan within her and couldn't help but respond, so strong was His presence. And sometimes, in Lucy's extraordinarily happy moments, she would possess her own brand of magic, wildflowers springing up in her wake.

And there it was, beneath the leafy trees, that a friend was made, of whom she could make neither head nor tails. Disregarding, of course, that he had not a tail, and that always makes things more difficult.

The two souls met, and their friendship was born in typical Lucy fashion. It would seem nonsensical to most everyone else, and perhaps even unsafe. But Lucy was never one to care for the opinions of others, nor to go about things the way everyone else would like. And Lucy consistently excelled at pursuits that were nonsensical to society. She would not fail to continue this trend as she grew older.

It was a warm, summer afternoon, and Lucy had been among the trees since dawn. She was determined. She was going to make the longest daisy chain any world _are there other worlds? What a strange thought_ had ever known. It was a marvel, watching her scuttle here and there in her quest for daisies every time her supply ran out. And you can understand that because of this, at least half the forest was absorbed with what their little Queen was up to, and any creature who had not noticed her before became acquainted on this day with the odd royal.

It was for this reason that his attention was first drawn to her. His woods were awfully tame that day, and seemed to know something he did not. And he knew everything that went on in the forest. Every living thing was focused single-mindedly in one direction; they strained towards the object at the center with an energy that astonished him. He was very rarely astonished. He had never known the woods to be distracted from him when he was doing something particularly clever. (You should know that he was always doing something clever.)

_It will not do! _ He thought indignantly.

So he set out to learn the secret that the trees had been keeping from him (and keeping quite well, the little rascals). Naturally, he was led to the source of their fascination.

Lucy sat contentedly on the dirt floor, nimble fingers weaving daisies together in an ever lengthening rope. She only paused in her work when she reached for another daisy, just to realize her stockpile was finally gone. Laying the cord down, she rose to her feet and admired the twisting trail it made around trees, over their roots, and towards the Cair, until she could no longer distinguish where it led. Satisfied with her hours of work (no matter how short a time she knew the product would last), she spun around, ready to explore her beloved woods once more. And promptly stumbled backwards with a gasp.

"Oh!"

For there, settled in front of her, was a boy with notably grubby hands resting on his hips, gazing at her with blatant curiosity. They blinked at each other, her in shock, and him in observation.

Recovering her manners (not that Lucy paid them much mind the majority of the time), she spoke cautiously, "Hello."

The older child looked down at her smaller form, "Who are you?" he demanded abruptly.

"Why, I'm Lucy!" she responded in a huff. Though Lucy did not put much stock by 'manners', she did believe that one ought to be polite when possible.

He nodded and did not offer his name in return. He studied her for another instant, then turned away and bolted back into the trees.

Lucy remained for a moment, gazing towards where he had been standing, bewildered. _Well, that was odd._ She shrugged (for what troubles a grown-up will never trouble a child), and glanced down at her own grimy hands, rubbing them absentmindedly against the skirt of her gown. It struck her briefly that the creature that had just accosted her didn't seem to be one to waste words unnecessarily, and this might not be a bad thing. She twisted her head and peeked once more at her daisy chain before setting off. Or that was the plan.

Instead, she stumbled back and this time landed squarely on her bum. She shot an accusing look at the boy who had reappeared quite suddenly and stood before her once more, one hand held out to help her up and the other behind his back.

She grasped it grudgingly and he pulled her to her feet. "You simply cannot keep doing that, you know," Lucy grumbled.

They locked eyes for a moment.

He bowed neatly, and said, "My lady," Determined emeralds shone beneath fine eyelashes. Then, whipping his left hand out from behind his back, he held out a single daisy to her.

She beamed at him.

And I suppose that's when their peculiar friendship truly began.

Susan scolded her for her ruined gown that evening. It was almost as if she thought it might make a difference. The reality was that Lucy always _intended_ to listen to Susan about staying tidy. But it was always the last thought on her mind when an adventure was afoot.

Therein lay the problem.

* * *

"He had wonderful tales to tell of life in the forest. He told about the midnight dances and how the Nymphs who lived in the wells and the Dryads who lived in the trees came out to dance with the Fauns;"

_Chapter 2_

"...and her own people called her Queen Lucy the Valiant."

"And through the eastern door, which was wide open, came the voices of the mermen and the mermaids swimming close to the shore and singing in honour of their new Kings and Queens."

_Chapter 17_

_The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe_

**Hope you enjoyed! This chapter should have given you a slight taste of what's to come. Again, attempting to stay as accurate to the original Lucy as possible, even her age.**

**Words-drip-from-my-fingertips**


	3. Species: Impossible

He clearly was no dwarf, too tall and lanky. He had no beard, either, even though the hue of his hair could compete with that of the Red Dwarfs'. He was much too short to be a giant (and much too clever, though she would never tell him she thought so). He was a boy, she thought, and not a nymph, though an imp, perhaps she could believe. Yes, _that_ she could believe.

He was always playing tricks and joking and somehow getting her involved. He talked not of dry things with she, and only of pirates, and treasure, and merriment. He was quick and boisterous, and loved to play as much as she did. And they continued in playing, playing together. I could not tell you what all of their games were, for there is an unspoken pact between all childhood friends to not give away secrets of State and all that sort of thing.

She knew not exactly how this friendship came to be, only that he was there, and so was she. In fact, she could not put a timeline to most of their friendship. It felt as though they had known each other forever, and it would always continue to be so. The woods were their special spot those first couple of years. Just when Lucy had been beginning to think of the woods as _hers_, in the way she thought of the sea as hers, she met _him_. And once one had met that wild person, there was no chance of ever having the presumption of declaring the woods yours as opposed to _his_.

Who, or what he was, she could not fathom in the slightest, for he could not be a Son of Adam. Mr. Tumnus told her when they met that he'd never come across a Son of Adam or Daughter of Eve before; even the White Witch did not know Edmund to be a boy at first. Of course, the Archenlanders and Calormenes were Human, but Lucy had never heard of them residing in Narnia before the siblings' rule.

But then, what was he? Surely, he was as natural as a faun, but had no fur, or hooves, or horns. The woods were his domain, but he had neither tree nor river to return to. He was a mystery, albeit a playful, mischievous mystery. But, My! Didn't he seem Human? Maybe the best sort of Human she had ever met. Lucy found no burning, all-consuming need to solve him; a playmate was a playmate, after all, and those were few and far between. Being who she was, however, there remained a lingering curiosity, which would most certainly build in the years to come.

Of course, Edmund and Peter and Susan were nice Humans too, but they were so—so _old._ She knew Ed wasn't really so much older than her, but sometimes she had the feeling that he'd much rather be doing Grown-Up things like holding court and reading formal requests. She knew, logically, that her new friend seemed to be closer to the High King's age than her own. But it was so easy to forget this when he made her laugh, taught her about his world, and seemed to care for solemnity about as much as she did.

He was always quite unashamedly filthy, and wore clothes woven of greenery. His untamed curls rivaled her own, and his eyes sparkled with life. Admittedly, the beloved queen's gowns were regularly as torn and soiled as her companion's attire, but neither ever took much notice (Susan _always_ noticed, and Lucy wasn't sure how she had the energy to spare on something so menial). They did not dwell on appearances; though perhaps they would not have been so drawn to each other if they had not both appeared so wild.

Lucy _lived_ in everything she did, and she loved with all of her heart, and Peter (for that was his name) rapidly became a most dear friend. When she learned his name (she could not tell you when that was, or for how long they had been acquainted), she was sure to tell him straightaway that he was not at all like her brother, the king.

He laughed and laughed, and laughed some more at this. "I have heard of him! Me? Like _that_ Grown-Up?"

Peter had one of those laughs that made you want to laugh too, though you weren't always certain whether you _should_ be laughing. So her mouth curved up into a half-smile. Lucy had to admit that the High King _was_ quite grown-up. She didn't think Peter Pan could ever be called anything near to grown-up, even if he _was _the same age as her brother (which she suspected).

Lucy realized it was silly to compare the two of them, and then her smile faded. You will remember that Lucy was always very perceptive. And though Peter's laugh had taken her off-guard, she still recognized that he made it out that being like His Majesty was a _terrible_ thing. Now, while Lucy didn't think the Lord of Cair Paravel was a very good playmate, she did think he was a wonderful King and a good and useful sort of Person.

"But is there something so very wrong with growing up?"

She learned that day that this was precisely the question _not _to ask Peter. "Of course! Growing up means _responsibilities_, and no more adventures, or laughing, or anything fun! Adults are boring old farts that like to sit around all day blabbing on about dull things."

"But surely, that is not true! His Majesty still has fun. And why, you're a great deal older than I, and we never cease to have fun." Lucy did not think about growing up very often, but when she did, she did not think it would be as awful as Peter made it sound.

"But I am still a boy, and I shall _never_ grow older!"

Lucy silently disagreed with him, and it was the first time she had ever thought to keep her opinion to herself. She didn't want to fight with Peter, and it was clear he would only become more angry. One couldn't remain young simply because one wished it, though he did seem quite adamant on the subject. She thought he must not understand very much about growing up at all, but perhaps no one had ever taught him.

"Are you?" She asked instead.

"Am I what?" He shot back, in his usual humor, "You tell me, if you believe yourself so wise."

"Well, a boy. Are you a boy?"

Her expression held so much puzzlement that he let out a merry little laugh before replying, "Of course I am! Did you think I was a Man?" Now he looked mildly offended. "I'm much too young to be _that_!"

Lucy cocked her head to the side, "But there oughtn't to be any Sons of Adam in these parts."

"I'm not the son of anybody," he declared vehemently, and his face took on an orange hue (but Lucy was sure she imagined that part).

"Well, that is to say, are you Human?"

"Are you?" He snarked back.

"Why, of course I'm Human!"

"Then so am I. If you're Human, then why oughtn't I to be?"

"But it _is _different! My siblings and I came from War Drobe. We're not from here."

A look of utter confusion passed over Peter's face, "I haven't the faintest idea what War Drobe is, but I'm not from here either."

Lucy's eyes grew wide, "You mean you came from Archenland or Calormene?"

"Not at all. I used to live on the second star. To the right, that is," now he muttered to himself, "Used to forget that part, the little ones would go left and get lost."

"I don't think I understand in the slightest. I have heard tell that the stars are people. How can you live on one?"

"I'm sure they _are_ people! Can you imagine me just sitting upon one of their heads like an eccentric hat?"

"Peter! Truly, how does one live on a star?"

"Well, in the other world—"

Here she exclaimed, "Other world!"

"Didn't you know? There are many other worlds. Wouldn't make much sense were this the only one."

Her forehead crumpled in thought, "Would it not? Why, I think I did know! It flew right out of my head, but of course we came from one just such— England, it is called. That's where War Drobe was, but really it's so much nicer here."

"Yes, well, in other places stars _aren't_ people, though you can have conversations with them, and one _can_ live on them. And if you couldn't, I did it just to spite everyone. Besides, maybe I didn't live on a star. Those were only my directions, you know. You can follow the arc of sunrise and turn left and make it there just as well."

Lucy was certain she was even more perplexed now than when they had begun the conversation. Their conversations often proceeded like this, and it was becoming less and less odd to her, or possibly _she_ was becoming _more_ odd. She would be hard pressed to determine whether the former or latter were more true.

If he _was_ a boy (she couldn't see what else he could be, and besides, he claimed that he was), then she wondered how he and Mr. Tumnus or the White Witch had never managed to meet. It was all very strange. These were the only things her active mind really snagged upon, and at her age the thoughts of how very dangerous a boy could be to her heart were nonexistent.

It would be delightful to report that Peter Pan vanished back to whence he came and Lucy swiftly forgot him, all parts of both youngsters remaining intact, but then, we would have no story. As we should remember, though our childhood may be long gone, Peter Pan can do a great deal in the space of ten minutes.

I solemnly promise it will all come right in the end.

* * *

"You are in fact Human?"  
"Of course I'm human," said Lucy, still a little puzzled.  
"To be sure, to be sure," said the Faun. "How stupid of me! But I've never seen a Son of Adam or a Daughter of Eve before."

"Meanwhile," said Mr Tumnus, "it is winter in Narnia, and has been for ever so long, and we shall both catch cold if we stand here talking in the snow. Daughter of Eve from the far land of Spare Oom where eternal summer reigns around the bright city of War Drobe, how would it be if you came and had tea with me?"

_Chapter 2_

"We've heard of Aslan coming into these parts before - long ago, nobody can say when. But there's never been any of your race here before."

_Chapter 8_

"One of the most respected of all the giant families in Narnia. Not very clever, perhaps (I never knew a giant that was), but an old family."

_Chapter 16_

_The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe_

The other Dwarf was a Red Dwarf with hair rather like a Fox's and he was called Trumpkin.

_Chapter 5_

No one had warned Caspian (because no one in these later days of Narnia remembered) that Giants are not at all clever.

_Chapter 7_

_Prince Caspian_

**And now we're getting into it!**

**I'd encourage all my readers to periodically go back and reread previous chapters, as I edit frequently. I will very rarely change anything crucial, but I constantly try to improve my writing :)**

**Words-drip-from-my-fingertips**


	4. The Secret of Sadness

With Peter around, there was always an adventure to be had. Sometimes, Lucy had to wonder whether it was really Peter who was around, or if it was her. After all, Peter seemed exist in a perpetual state of being. He was always happy, always playful, and always _there_. She was the one that came and went. True, he was constantly cooking up new adventures, games, and tricks to play, but things didn't change for him. He never had something else to do, and he never seemed to think much of time. He was a constant in a world that was always changing. And how he managed it baffled Lucy.

It was quietly approaching dusk, Lucy's siblings were accustomed to her odd hours of playmaking, and had ceased both their nagging (in the case of her sister) and questioning her activities and the necessity of them (in the case of His Magnificence). She was considered a queen in her own right, even if she was still quite young. A successful year leading Narnia had brought Lucy even more freedom. In time, that success would limit the very freedom she now enjoyed, but for this moment she was young, unfettered, and none of that mattered.

Darkness settled first on the branches far above their heads, like a large bird alighting and staying for a time. It gradually dripped in great inky drops from the high branches to the lower ones, filling the spaces between the trees with night. Lucy was so slight that one time she was coated with the stuff (which seemed to have a similar consistency to honey), before its course was redirected to its proper spot in blank space. It had taken a severe washing to get the Blackdrop out of her hair.

She and Peter were perched on corresponding low branches like birds of unusual feather waiting for the shadows to set in earnest. Everything was always so easy and natural with Peter. He never seemed to expect anything from her, and she learned to expect the unexpected with him. So when he told her that evening that he was going to teach her to fly she didn't doubt for a moment that he'd be true to his word.

"Can we begin right away?" Lucy wasn't sure the precise form 'flying' would take with the mischief maker as an instructor, but she was eager to know.

"Well, I seem to have misplaced my fairy, so there may be need to improvise."

"Your fairy!"

"Yes, normally she's essential to the process."

"What is she like?"

"Like any other fairy, I suppose. She's small, about the size of my pointer finger. And she's loyal, and really the best fairy I could ever ask for."

"Why, I never realized there were actual fairies." Her astonishment radiated from her.

"Does it surprise you? You know so many other odd Narnians."

"Maybe it should not surprise me, but I always imagined fairies to be, well, fairy stories. And are they really Narnian? Or did she come from your star?"

"I have not yet discovered whether the pixies exist naturally here. I would assume them to have a base of operations like the Pixie Hollow, but I have not found it. Tink did not arrive with me. In fact, I haven't seen her since…" Peter paused to scratch briefly at a spot just above his right ear, "I don't know when."

"Do you miss her something awful? I would miss my fairy if I had one, I think. I'm sure she's dandy, off on her own adventures."

At this he almost seemed to deflate and droop, "When I am still and think about it, I miss her very much. But I do not have much occasion for that. In some ways I think that I was more _her_ boy than she was _my_ fairy."

Lucy didn't like how sad Peter looked, he had never looked that way before and it frightened her. She didn't want him to be sad anymore. "How quaint! Do you suppose I have my own fairy?"

"Perhaps, though it's very hard to tell."

"Why? Does not everyone have a fairy then?"

"No, see, when the first baby was born, it laughed and its laugh shattered into a thousand pieces that became the first fairies. After that, every time a baby was born, a fairy was born as well."

"How wonderful! Then I _do_ have a fairy?"

"Having a fairy of your own is more a matter of loyalty than birth. After all, Tinker Bell can't actually be my birth fairy because she is a girl and I am a boy. Besides, children are so very logical nowadays that most of them don't believe in fairies anymore at all. And every time a child pronounces that they don't, a fairy somewhere falls down dead."

"Oh! I hope I have never said something so dreadful. If I ever have, Aslan forgive me."

Peter leaned towards her and tapped her nose with his finger, "I'm certain you never could, Lucy, you're the strongest believer I've ever met."

Lucy was taken aback at the genuine compliment. It was so very unlike Peter. It was a flash of maturity, in a boy who held not an ounce of it, as far as she knew. Then the moment was gone, taking with it the vulnerability and his openness of expression. Funny, she had not thought him guarded before now.

"Would you like to know a secret?"

Lucy leaned in close to Peter, distracted. _A secret, how exciting!_

"I don't know how to fly!" Peter let out a loud laugh, and his eyes twinkled at Lucy. She giggled in return, unable to resist the contagion of his laugh though she felt as though she had missed the joke entirely. As usual, he had not minced words and had gone right to the heart of the matter with no preparatory explanation.

"I don't understand, Peter."

"I used to tell the lost boys, and all the visitors, that all they needed was a sprinkling of fairy dust, and lovely wonderful thoughts to fly. But I think I only said that because it rhymes."

"But aren't you always thinking lovely, wonderful thoughts?"

The whole of Peter went dark for half a second, before he was as bright as ever, like a flickering light bulb, "Yes, always! But I don't need fairy dust and thoughts don't lift me into the air, I made that up, you know."

Lucy frowned slightly and backtracked saying, "You know it isn't right to lie, don't you?"

"Oh bother, making things up isn't the same as lying, don't be silly." He dismissed her concern with a flap of his hand.

"Well, then how _do_ you do it?"

"That's just it, I don't know how! I used think it was because I was part bird, like all babies—"

"Babies are part bird!"

"Yes, of course. What are they teaching children in school these days?"

"I haven't the faintest, but they obviously aren't teaching the important things."

"I realized today that I've never had to think about flying, I just can. So you see, I can't teach you to fly, when I don't know how myself."

Lucy frowned in disappointment, "Oh, well, I suppose you can't help it, can you?"

Peter grasped her hand, "But you can fly _with _me, if you want."

"Do I ever! Maybe you'll remember how someday and you can teach me to fly myself, too."

Her arms wrapped around his shoulders, and his threaded beneath her knees. And then, not knowing what to expect, Lucy squeezed her eyes tightly shut, preparing for a dramatic lift off. Before long, one eye popped open, and then the other, a grinning Peter filling her vision.

She began squirming in his arms, "Well? Aren't we going to fly? Or have you been pulling my leg this whole time? I swear if you have, I'll make you pay!"

Peter continued to grin at her, "I'd suggest you refrain from moving overmuch, and look down."

She stopped her weak struggles and did as he suggested, looking down at the tree tops.

_Looking down at the tree tops!_

"Oh!" The little exclamation escaped her, and she tightened her arms convulsively around Peter's shoulders.

"Look at that, I do believe we're flying," Peter said nonchalantly.

Lucy let out a wild shout of delight, "We're flying!"

It was one of the loveliest experiences Lucy had ever had. To really, really fly! But something kept distracting her from enjoying it. Something Peter had said.

"Peter?"

"Lucy?"

"You said that you misplaced your fairy."

"Yes."

"So you lost her, then?"

His brows squeezed together as he looked down at her, "Yes."

"But you said it's been a very long time since you've last seen her, and you only now realized that she's gone?"

Peter hesitated, a troubled look flitting across his face, "Yes, but she's very small," he held up his index finger and thumb with about an inch between, as if to reinforce the statement about her stature, "Very independent."

"What if you misplaced a larger person?"

A guarded look entered his eyes, "Like who?"

"Like me." It was hard for Lucy to tell at first, she thought the moonlight might be playing tricks on her. But sure enough there was a steady blue hue that was painting Peter's skin. His arms were where she noticed it first.

"You're a lot bigger than Tink is. It would be very hard to lose you, unless you were purposefully hiding. I bet you're not very good at that anyway."

"But if you _did _lose me, would you be able to find me? You wouldn't give up, would you? You wouldn't forget, would you?"

Lucy wasn't sure why she was so desperate for his answer to this question. It was becoming apparent to Lucy that Peter did seem to be in a habit of forgetting a great many details when it came to important matters. She wondered if inside his lively person, inside of this flying boy, he only had room for one or two things of importance at one time. Maybe this was why he both forgot easily and was so unburdened by life's troubles. She and Peter didn't usually have serious conversations like this. She couldn't help but feel that his answer was of paramount importance in this impromptu discussion.

"I think I'm done flying today." Peter deftly navigated them between tree branches and down to the forest floor. He released Lucy and she stood, gazing at him with wide eyes. She no longer cared what his answer to her question was. She was more concerned with the canvas that her friend's skin had become.

"Peter, are you alright? You're blue all over. Even your toes!"

Peter stiffened. "I am not afraid! I've never been afraid in my life. Go away, Lucy."

* * *

"Will the others see you too?" asked Lucy.  
"Certainly not at first," said Aslan. "Later on, it depends."  
"But they won't believe me!" said Lucy.  
"It doesn't matter."

_Chapter 10_

_Prince Caspian_

"Why don't they teach logic at these schools?"

"Nothing is more probable," said the Professor, taking off his spectacles and beginning to polish them, while he muttered to himself, "I wonder what they do teach them at these schools."

_Chapter 5_

_The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe_

**Whatever objects you plan to throw at me, please refrain! I know it has been several months. I will offer a few brief excuses: I am preparing for university in the autumn (including auditions), have an almost full time job, and also am a major volunteer in several capacities. So in short, I have very little time.**

**However, I do love this story, and have lots planned for it, so don't worry, I'll be around. Comments always help, though :)**

**Words-drip-from-my-fingertips**


	5. Companion of Mine

"Why, Ed, he's simply wonderful!"

"And this fellow is living out in the woods on his own?"

"I've never asked him directly, but I can't imagine him anywhere else. He's part of the forest. It would be as if something were missing if he weren't there. Imagine if Narnia had no trees. That's how it would feel."

The siblings sat in Cair Paravel's grand library. Edmund spent a great deal more time secluded here than Lucy, but she knew she was always likely to find him here for one of their chats. Besides, Lucy believed that the library, for all its faults (namely that it was indoors, not outdoors), had the most comfortable sofas in the whole of the castle.

Though Edmund was not a great proponent of physical affection publicly, Lucy savored their talks together when he would allow her to curl up next to him and rest her cheek on his shoulder. Such was the posture she now adopted.

"His hair is the strangest color. It's almost orange, it's so bright. It's not like a fox's or a Red Dwarf's. Their hair is almost like—like, oh I don't know! Rust, maybe. His hair looks like his head burst into flames and then stayed there. Does that make sense?"

"I've had a few acquaintances with similar coloring."

"Have you? It's the first time I've met a person with hair like that. I didn't think hair could be that color before. That's why I call him Blaze. Did I tell you he never wears shoes?"

"I do not think you have. I suppose if he is living solely in the woods he has no need of them."

"Well, he doesn't wear them. Ever. I shall have to tell Susan I am not the only one."

"Susan would glue your shoes to your feet if she could. Even then, I imagine you would find some way to pry them off."

"Oh, I don't know. I'm not sure I'm _that_ clever."

Edmund eyed her oddly, "You won't tell me where—?"

"No, I shan't."

He sighed, "It was worth a try. What else have you been learning about this boy, sister-mine? Have you interrogated him thoroughly? I expect it of you, you know."

"I did no such thing! I don't always ask an abundance of questions. Do you know that he says he's quite Human? I'm still not sure, I mean certainly the fairy's not Human. And what Human can fly? Besides, he's so color dramatic."

"I'm not sure I follow."

Lucy waved a hand absently, "Oh, it doesn't matter. Just something I'm trying to settle."

"Sometimes, I think that your mind must be a jumble of rainbows, sudden bolts of lighting, and a chest of very badly labeled drawers."

Lucy wrinkled her nose, "I have no proper response to that."

"Fancy that! I must have stumbled upon the one that said 'Speechless'."

Lucy gave him a little shove. Edmund chuckled and Lucy tucked herself closer to her older brother as they settled into a content silence for a couple of minutes.

Edmund patted his sister's shoulder, "Is he a good person, Lucy?"

"Oh," Lucy's forehead scrunched in thought, "I can tell that Peter respects girls especially. We don't talk of it often, but it is because they are mothers. That is, they _can_ be mothers, not every girl is one, of course. But I think that boys should be respected for the same reason, because they can be fathers, don't you? I wouldn't say he's precisely _good_, I don't think anyone is really, except Aslan."

"Hmm," hummed Edmund, "I don't think anyone could call you anything but good."

Lucy turned to her brother rapidly, "You mustn't say that Ed. I'm certainly not good all the time, I'm not perfect, you know. If I'm the standard for good, then I shall lose hope for humanity. One should not try to emulate me, I've my own failings."

His expression softened, "I know. But you _are_ inherently good, at your very core. Evidently, not always, or you wouldn't hide your shoes."

"Not that again! Edmund! You know I can't help it."

"I know very well that you can, but you do it anyway and vex Susan all the more."

"You know I shan't tell you."

He sighed, "I know."

She looked up at him, mirth bubbling up in her tone, "You won't ever stop trying to get it out of me, will you?"

"What do you think?"

She let out a little huff, "I'm certain you'll figure it out eventually without my assistance. You have a habit of uncovering my secrets."

Edmund gave a satisfied nod to this and began his inquiry anew. For Edmund the Just was not one to drop a discussion simply because of a detour or two."If he's not good by your definition," he flashed her a wry grin, "is he at least kind?"

Lucy squirmed uncomfortably, "Well, no, I wouldn't call Peter _kind_ either. But he is a great deal of fun."

"Are you telling me, Lucy Pevensie, that this friend of yours is _not_ kind?"

"He isn't mean-spirited or unkind at all. But he isn't kind either. He just _is_. Sometimes he says unkind things, but not so very often."

Edmund grasped both of his sister's shoulders and looked her solemnly in the eyes, "He doesn't sound wonderful to me at all. I do not like to pass judgment without even meeting the fellow, but he doesn't sound at all like a good friend if he treats you unkindly."

"I don't think you understand, Ed. He's not particularly generous or unselfish or kind, but he certainly isn't unkind either. Sometimes he says horrible, awful things to me. I haven't quite figured out why, but I don't think he means them. It doesn't seem like he means them with his heart. I get the oddest feeling that he says them just to make me angry and make me go away. I don't understand it, but I do know that he isn't usually unkind. Please don't think it of him, Ed."

"I won't because I trust you, Lu. I may have some insight for you, though."

"On what?"

"On why your Peter tries to make you angry."

"Then tell me, please."

"Sometimes when there are things we don't like about ourselves we try to hide them from other people, and the only way we can do that is to push others away. And sometimes we just don't know how to be open with others. It's scary to tell someone else what you're scared of. What if they decide they don't want to be friends with you anymore or they use it against you?"

"I think I see what you mean. Isn't—" Lucy paused, uncertain, "Isn't that why we have Aslan? So we don't have to worry about those things?"

Edmund smiled at her, "Yes, smart girl. And we exist to pursue Aslan's will, not our own, so sometimes people _will_ turn on us, people that we trust. That is when we must lean on Aslan most. It doesn't mean that betrayal doesn't hurt us. I know this best of all."

"Edmund," Lucy admonished.

He pulled her into a warm hug, "I know Lucy Lu. You needn't worry for me so. Aslan has forgiven me my trespasses, and I have learned from them."

"I am glad of it. I just worry that you haven't forgiven yourself."

He glanced down at her curly head in fondness, "I am learning."

"Good," she cocked an eyebrow at him, "You know you are more prone to interrogation than I am."

"I can see what good Peter's company is doing you, Lu."

"We have such adventures! And he tells such stories! I've never had a best friend before, but I think I have one now. I don't think I could keep myself away from the woods now even if I tried."

Edmund winked at her, "And you're obviously _not_ trying."

Lucy grinned back at him, "Why would I?"

"I can't give you a good reason, but I'm sure Susan could give you a dozen or more of them. You wouldn't even have to ask for them. She could probably also give you a pile full of reasons to brush your hair every day, but you wouldn't want to hear those either."

"Oh, Susan," Lucy groaned. "I simply can't see the need for such preoccupation with my appearance! _You_ don't brush your hair every day, do you?"

"Hey!" Edmund lifted his hands in a position of surrender, "I'm not the enemy here. You don't hear me debating with you on the subject, but neither am I joining your anti-brushing campaign. I'm not sure I want to know what you were doing out adventuring today, but your dress looks worse for wear. You had better change before supper; otherwise we'll all get an earful from Su."

Lucy seemed to ponder that for a brief minute. She shrugged and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek before leaping to her feet lightly, "Thanks, you're the most thoughtful Edmund I've ever known."

Edmund rolled his eyes and shouted after her as she scurried away, "I only tell you these things because I wouldn't want to risk the meal being delayed!"

She popped her head back in through the doorway, "What's that?" she paused for a moment, furrowed her brow thoughtfully, nodded, and said, "Oh yes, I thought I heard something like, 'Blah, blah, blah- _food_\- Blah, blah, blah,' but it all makes perfect sense, because it's you, Ed." Then, laughing, she hurried away again before he could retort.


	6. Inside of Forever

Peter had a difficult time admitting it to himself, and he certainly would never admit it to Lucy, but he was finding himself unsettled by the oddest things recently. He was convinced that it was her. For what else could it be? He wasn't certain what it was about her that made him think strange thoughts, but all the same, it was happening. It was if she pulled them from the depths of his brain despite his reluctance, like they couldn't help emerging just for her. And despite his vow to always remain the same even in his thoughts, he couldn't bring himself to give Lucy up and stop them from changing. She was the first human soul he had encountered in what must have been a hundred years. A child, too! A friend.

Lonely was a word he wished he did not know the meaning of. He hadn't, not before his Narnian years. He had always had the company of his Lost Boys to fend off this feeling. Even when he had sometimes lived in Kensington Gardens, Tinker Bell had always been at his side. Then came the period of time before Lucy. That was how he measured time now, before and after Lucy. Time had stretched out interminably as it had never done before for him. It was almost as if Time itself had betrayed him.

Before he had met Lucy he never really lingered on thoughts about Tinker Bell and the Neverland and the Lost Boys, about Kensington Gardens and the taboo subject of his parents. It wasn't in his nature to remember. Of course, the thoughts flitted in occasionally, but then they flitted right out again. Now these thoughts flitted in and—stuck, as if caught in a spider web. His head was increasingly full of uncomfortable thoughts. That wasn't him. That had never been him, it defied his very nature. He lived in the moment, he went on adventures, and he thought only of himself. And most of all, he _never _changed. Except…

She would ask the most troublesome questions that would get him thinking. _Really _thinking. There were new things happening inside of him, and he had an inkling of what they were, no matter how much he wished ignorance still reigned. From a long time ago, Peter faintly remembered other little girls talking to him about feelings. He hadn't known then what the feelings they spoke of were, but now…

He _felt_ new things. Things like worry. What _had_ happened to Tinker Bell? She had been missing for ever so long, and Peter had never truly searched for her. But now she could be anywhere. Peter didn't keep track of time, it had never been important before. What was time to a boy who intended to go on living forever? But he was sure that he had been in Narnia for a long, long time. It was hopeless to try and find her now. He didn't know what the name of this feeling was, but it was a tightness in his chest at the knowledge that if he had only thought of someone other than himself, he might know where she was. This feeling plagued him constantly now. Lucy would know the name of this feeling. She had probably experienced all of them before, but it was all new to him.

New, and overwhelming. For the truth of the matter was that Peter Pan had never felt very much, and what little he had was greatly subdued and diluted. You and I wouldn't recognize any of his poor vestiges of feelings as any of the ones we have experienced and are familiar with ourselves. I am afraid, and rather reluctant, to admit that Peter Pan was really quite a shallow little boy. He had never been a total void, he had felt compassion for a frightened creature, troubled when he did not know all the details of a situation, and protective when he believed that someone under his care might be in danger. But these were brief sentiments, always. He could not remember to be bothered by them for long. His heart had never throbbed or bled with pain. He had never felt _anything_ deeply, all the way down to his bones.

For the first time in his life, Peter found himself missing the Lost Boys, the ones that had grown up and returned to England, as was the natural order of things. He found himself mourning the friends that he had constantly lost. A terrible heat streaked through him every time the realization struck once more that he couldn't remember their names. Not a single one. He felt, _down to his very bones_, that there was something horribly wrong with that. He was afraid, yes, afraid. He knew one day Lucy would have to grow up too. She would grow up and he would lose her friendship. Maybe he would forget her name too.

Peter even felt a little lost himself. He loved Narnia, and it had become his home. But now—now he _remembered_ the Neverland, and he remembered how he had tried to return from a stay in Kensington Gardens and the heavens had refused him. He had not had to search for the Neverland before, but that night he had, and he had been unable to find it. He had been rejected from his home and had drifted after desperate efforts, waking to find himself thrust into the unfamiliar Narnian forest. Was the Neverland gone forever? Had children grown so disbelieving, that they had really and truly brought an end to the land of dreams? Peter had never thought of the Neverland as small until he came to Narnia. Everything was so concentrated in the Neverland, one didn't have to go very far to stumble upon one adventure or another. His whole world had been the forest and the beach there.

Now it seemed tiny in comparison to the world that was Narnia. It was vast, stretching in all directions. There were full fledged nations and large conflicts. Peter had flown high above the trees. He knew how very large it was. He had remained near to the comfort of a forest and an ocean through the years. In hindsight, he could understand that London had been much the same, part of what he guessed was a much wider world. He had never been curious enough to fly beyond it.

He'd never really wondered why he could fly, though he did know that other children couldn't. All these things Lucy prompted in him, and he couldn't grasp the why of it. He even found himself sitting and just thinking about the wonder that was Lucy more and more often. Her pure faith in Aslan, and all that was good and beautiful and wonderful was astounding.

Peter knew that he was not a normal boy. He also knew that he had a distinct advantage over all other children, for he lived in a magical world, and always had. He had no natural ability to doubt, but for this same reason he also had no need for faith in what he did not know for a certainty.

He had always found himself to be the most wonderful boy that ever lived. But was he the most wonderful child that ever lived? He knew he was not. And he even thought—he thought if asked, he must admit it out loud. Peter sincerely doubted that he could ever harness the level of faith that Lucy Pevensie, the Valiant Queen, possessed. He had believed that he could win any contest, but he was unsure from whence this belief had sprung, and now, whether it was justified.

Peter had always boasted about the forever he would live until. He _had_ been alive and irresponsible for longer than anyone could keep track of. But he still didn't know what _forever_ would really feel like. He wasn't even sure anymore that forever was something he wanted to stick around for. Was _forever_ as lonely as _now_? What could be the point of outliving every living thing, only to find oneself alone? Why had this never occurred to him before?

The problem with people is, no matter whether one is three or one hundred and three, when we discover something about ourselves we would rather never have discovered, we like to pretend that we do not know it. Sometimes, we even try that much harder to be exactly what we were before. So, you see, _that_ is what Peter Pan did. Because the truth is, he was afraid, and that was the scariest thing of all.

So Peter proceeded to pretend with all his might. Unfortunately, Lucy was the main witness of this determinedly unchanging Peter. She did not mind now, but she would. That part of the story comes later. For now, innocence reigned between the two friends. And little Lucy had not the least idea of the struggle she had initiated inside of Peter's head.

When he stopped _doing,_ he started thinking. The key was to keep busy, and then the thoughts, and more than that, the feelings would disappear. At least, this was his theory. It took him little time to cook up an adventure.

Peter stood at the very edge of the forest. Lucy could see him all the way from the Cair. She couldn't help but wonder how long he planned on waiting for her. He must be waiting for her. He didn't know anyone else from the Cair, did he? What if she didn't come? But then—why was he just standing there like that?

Curiosity stirred (his plan, though she could not know it), she stepped away from the window and whirled down the halls of the palace, hurried down stairs, and scurried to meet him across the feet that separated the Cair from the comforting shade of the forest. The grass tickled her ankles and her excitement built. Grinding to a halt in front of Peter, Lucy just smiled at him. Per usual, her feet were bare, her newest pair of boots sitting forlornly by her bedroom chamber door. Susan was due to walk past them any minute now and scowl, as if the boots themselves were responsible for her unruly sister.

"I used to know pirates." Said he, proudly.

"Did you? What are they like? I imagine living at sea and sailing off to find adventures must be terribly thrilling."

He cocked an eyebrow at her, "They weren't that kind of pirates. I mean, they lived on the Jolly Roger, all right. But they usually kind of weighed anchor and stayed put. They liked to raid the redskins' village and took the princess captive on occasion. They were great fun."

Lucy frowned, "They don't sound very nice."

"They weren't! But don't you see that's where all the fun was? They tried to enslave the pixies once, which is ridiculous. Pixies are rather fierce, you know. Besides, the Piccaninnies held their own, they would scalp the pirates or the Lost Boys just as quickly." Peter chuckled at a memory.

"How awful."

"You should have seen the fun we had taunting grumpy Hook. Usually he was trying to kill me and the Lost Boys, but he was shoddy at it, and besides, me and my boys knew how to fight them off. Only got nicked by the hook once or twice."

Lucy grew visibly distressed, "He sounds like a proper tyrant. I've been learning about them." There was no amusement in her tone.

Whether he ignored the tone or it went over his head, she didn't know. He merely shrugged in response. Peter pulled two wooden swords from where they leant against a tree, Lucy not having noticed before, "One is for you."

"Where did you get them from?"

"I imagined them. Where else could I have gotten them?"

Lucy cast him a puzzled look and took the proffered sword, "But imagining something and it being real aren't the same thing."

Now he looked at her, puzzled, "I don't know what you mean. What do you think make-believe is _for_?"

Lucy just shook her head and dropped the debate, "Whatever are they for?"

"We're going to spar, of course! Come on, I'll teach you how. We can play war, and I shall call you Valiance itself."

I suppose it never occurred to Peter Pan, but playing at war was really a very grown-up thing to do. And though Lucy found it odd, at the time it did not occur to her either. Peter's account of the situation back on the Neverland sifted out of her mind like sand in the face of the wave of a new adventure.

They rushed deeper into the woods, crushed some berries and smeared crimson lines on each other's faces. Peter assured Lucy that the redskins had always done so before battle. He taught her to whoop loudly to intimidate the enemy, though their whoops were often followed by fits of uncontrollable laughter. They chased each other around and through the woods, and stalked each other, hiding in the bushes and leaping out at each other. They crossed swords roughly, but with a great deal of enthusiasm.

They challenged each other with words, as they imagined one would in battle.

"Hyah!"

"You'll never best me!"

"Just see if I can't, Sir Blaze."

"You dare challenge me, Lady Valiance?"

"I dare."

"You will find yourself outmatched."

"And you will find yourself a pile of matchsticks!"

"I'm not finished with you yet."

"I'll die before I surrender."

"Then die, you shall!"

Lucy learned to play this delightful new game, falling into bed exhausted that evening. Peter had no experience with the terrors and horrors of true battle, and it would be many, many years until he would. The duels with the pirates of the Neverland had never been more than a farce to add variety to the island, conjured by young boys dreaming of fighting a pirate and being declared a hero.

The threat of death was something that Peter had never thought about, though he had boasted often enough to James Hook that he would meet his doom. Peter, a boy who lived forever, did not understand death, and had not witnessed it. It is painful to report, then, that Lucy was the first of the cheerful duo to be disillusioned. There is no good way to brace oneself for war, and so she was quite woefully unprepared. Even so, she had years yet to enjoy the painless illusion before it was to be irrevocably shattered.

* * *

**I apologize if the plot seems slow paced and that's not your thing. This is more of a deeper character study, so it will seem slow paced and slow burn.**

**Thank you so much for your lovely reviews, they make me smile.**

**Words-drip-from-my-fingertips**


	7. Unknown

Lucy wiggled her toes in the sand, wondering how she had gotten here. The night breeze was warm, carrying a promise of summer. Spectacular summer. The waves were subdued, breaking quietly. Though she was enjoying the scene, she suspected there was a reason for it. The sand, of course, and the sound of the break had been identifying factors to where she was. The salty smell, too. It must be the very deep of night. There were no lights to illuminate the shore besides the stars and moon, which admittedly, were shining rather enthusiastically.

Lucy's eyes were drawn out to the gloom of the waves. She squinted, trying to make sense of her surroundings and puzzle out how she had arrived on the beach to begin with. A strange shape was detaching from the shadowy waves. It grew larger and larger and the moonlight reflected off of it. Beams of golden light tossed through the air.

It was wonderful, marvelous really, to see Him again.

He emerged from the waves and padded onto the shore with his large paws. Her breath caught as he gave a magnificent shake and turned to her.

"My dear child."

She laughed delightedly and ran to him. Her arms clasped around his miraculously dry neck and she buried her face in his golden mane. Her curls mixed with his tawny fur as if they were meant to be together. "I missed you, Aslan."

"I have been here all along."

She pulled back and looked into his deep eyes full of love, "I know that. I'm sorry that I forget sometimes. But it _is _so very nice to really see you again."

"You have served me well, Queen Lucy."

She ducked her head back into his mane at the compliment, tears filling her eyes.

"I hoped very hard that I was, but I wasn't sure."

"This I know. Yet still you have served me, faithful one. You have brought back love to my people where Jadis destroyed it."

Lucy frowned, "I'm not very good at the politics, Aslan. I get hopelessly bored. I suppose that makes me selfish. I'm not patient about it like Pete, Ed, and Susan."

His only words on the subject, "You will improve."

There was a moment of peaceful silence.

"You wonder about the boy."

Lucy was not surprised. Aslan knew the depths of her heart, and her head always seemed ten times clearer when she was with him. "He is lost, I think. Wandering. But then, sometimes he seems to know precisely who he is. When I first met him, I was certain he was the most self confident person of my acquaintance. How can that be?"

His sad eyes regarded her, "If it is advice that you seek, brave one, know that it is enough that you share his friendship. In this way you shall serve me. I will not answer all of your questions. Some of the answers you must discover for yourself, and others he must give to you."

"Yes, Aslan. In time, though, he will heal?"

Aslan considered her with the light of something that resembled mirth growing in his large, liquid eyes. "_In time_, you must trust what I will begin to tell you."

Lucy did not understand, but she had not expected to. She did intend to remember, however. She stepped back a step from Aslan and nodded. He likely did not intend to stay long. He was the King of Beasts, after all. "Will you help me trust?"

He dipped his maw toward her and said, "Courage, dear one." He opened his jaws wide and breathed on her.

Then it was dark once more.

She could still smell the salty sea. Something was off about it, though she couldn't put her finger on exactly what. She no longer stood in the soft sand of the Eastern sea. In fact, as she wiggled her toes she found that she wasn't standing in sand at all. Below her feet was rough wood. Startled, she noted that the ground was rocking. An earthquake? Lucy bent her knees and moved so as to widen her stance and give herself more stability. She almost tipped over when she realized she couldn't move her ankles. With it came an awareness of some rough material against her ankles. Not just her ankles! Her wrists!

Lucy didn't think she'd ever been tied up before, but she strongly suspected it was rope that was binding her extremities. Where was she? And how had she gotten here? She craned her head around desperately, trying to find some clue in the darkness about her situation. She couldn't see anything except the pure black that surrounded her. Was she blind?

Rough laughter sounded behind her and she felt pressure on her back. Then she was being shoved forward. She had to concentrate in order not to tread on her own toes.

More sounds began to filter into her consciousness. Loud men. Strange vernacular. A creaking sound. The voice behind her.

"Now, now, there's no way out but down, little girl." Again, the rough voice laughed cruelly. "Out you go." She received another shove.

Stumbling forward, Lucy felt real alarm amidst her confusion as the wood beneath her feet became extremely unstable. She felt as though she were balancing on a tree branch. Several voices called out to her in mocking tones, but she had difficulty deciphering their words.

That same voice close by spoke again menacingly, "A big jump now sweetheart, to the fishies."

Terror streaked through her. What was happening?

Suddenly, she didn't have to wonder anymore. She felt a jolt behind her and then she slipped.

Lucy was falling. She was falling far and fast. She knew she was screaming, could feel her vocals straining. And yet, the rushing air was stealing her voice. No one would hear her, and no one would save her.

"Aslan!" Wasn't it just moments before that she was with him?

"_No fear," _came the deep rumble around her.

"I don't understand!" she screamed, the fall seemed to last forever. She was certain pain awaited her at the end of it. The wind battered at her, bruising her.

"_He will catch you."_

The air snatched tears from her eyes.

Desperate, she called out, "Who? No one can catch me! Who is waiting for me?"

"_He will. The Way is found."_

She rushed away from the stars and dread filled her. She wasn't sure at what point the stars had appeared during her fall. But she could see them now. This was it. She closed her eyes and accepted her fate. The air around her shimmered with a distant unapproachable tune she could not understand. She shivered at its coldness. It mocked her.

_She was afraid. She was alone. She was falling._ So she screamed out her pain. Fire burned her every particle as she made impact and burst into tiny pieces, her body jolted-

"Lucy!" Susan shouted in her ear.

_Susan?_

Lucy's eyes opened wide and her mouth snapped shut, as she looked into Susan's concerned face and past her to the ceiling of her bedroom.

"Susan?"

"Lucy!"

Susan gathered Lucy tightly to her, wrapping her arms around her sister.

With a foggy mind, Lucy asked, "What's wrong, Su?"

Susan pulled back and looked at her sister in shock. "Lucy, you were screaming."

"I was?"

"You were." Susan confirmed. She peered at Lucy closely, "Nightmare?"

Lucy's forehead wrinkled, as Aslan and the falling tumbled together in a perplexity, "I'm not sure."

Susan shook her head as if that answer made no sense. And maybe it didn't. Lucy was too overwhelmed to figure that out, too. "Go back to sleep, then, Lu."

Susan waited a moment while Lucy settled back obediently and pulled up her blanket. When she left the room, Lucy sat back up. She didn't think she'd be able to sleep the rest of the night.

"Aslan, help me to trust," she whispered into the still night.

* * *

"Certainly not. I tell you he is the King of the wood and the son of the great Emperor-beyond-the-Sea. Don't you know who is the King of Beasts? Aslan is a lion - the Lion, the great Lion."

_Chapter 8_

For when they tried to look at Asian's face they just caught a glimpse of the golden mane and the great, royal, solemn, overwhelming eyes;

_Chapter 12_

_Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe_

"To know what would have happened, child?" said Aslan. "No. Nobody is ever told that."

"Oh dear," said Lucy.

"But anyone can find out what will happen," said Aslan.

_Chapter 10_

_Prince Caspian_

**Words-drip-from-my-fingertips**


	8. Invisibility and Faith

As is to be expected from all reasonable children (and the reader may be surprised to learn there are rather more than expected of this variety), Lucy began to grow. At first, it was just a little each year, and her friends and the sea continued their playing, with Lucy in their midst. They took no note of the changes time dealt her. Gradually, her gowns grew shorter-

Oh, but that will not do at all! It's no use blaming the gowns, when it was Lucy herself who was stretching out.

For quite a while things went on as they always had, despite the new gowns (which were ruined almost as soon as they were had). Lucy's faith in Aslan did not lessen as she grew, but somehow was only strengthened. Her love of adventure, of Narnia, never wavered. But she _was_ changing, along with her siblings. In the three years of the Pevensies' reign, during which Lucy went from eight to eleven, England had become a dream. A somewhat unpleasant and strange place that they had once heard a story about…

The raven haired queen sat beside her equally dark haired brother. Standing at the window beside them was their brooding brother. Secluded in Peter's study, all three were deep in conversation. The fourth monarch was notably missing from the debate, though only in body. For the discussion very clearly involved her. Tension and urgency radiated from Susan. She was, after all, the one who had demanded the discussion.

"Should we do something about it?" asked the queen.

"What _could _we do, Susan? And for that matter, I am yet to be convinced that there is any reason for action at all, apart from the idea that we very likely have never met who might be her best friend."

She leaned forward in thought, her elbows resting on her knees in one of her rare unladylike moments, "Could you not command her? You are the High King, Peter!"

He gave her a sharp, disapproving glance, "I will not do it. It would be an outright abuse of power, holding fealty to her king over her head."

Susan sighed and looked at her brother, "I know, and I am sorry I even proposed it." She was quiet for a minute before tilting her head towards the figure at the window, "You are silent. What have you to say, Edmund?"

A stony face turned from the window to gaze at his siblings, his fair hair reflecting the light. "Why is it you are so set on this of a sudden, Susan?"

"The question you should be asking is why we have not been concerned before now. She has been permitted to run wild, with absolutely no supervision. We have been remiss to overlook this for so long."

"You have evaded my question, and that is entirely your opinion. If you fear for social appearances, you needn't. Narnia would love her less if she began to be properly behaved."

Edmund took both Peter and Susan in with his scrutinizing gaze. Peter squirmed uncomfortably. It was his role to agree with one or the other of his siblings, but he had no desire to incite the Gentle Queen's wrath. He really wasn't certain why that title for his sister was becoming more popular among the people. The Susan he knew was sarcastic, logical, and could be charming. He would rarely call her gentle. Edmund's quiet, powerful temper could be equally daunting. The Just King, while generally level headed had a tendency to be overly defensive of Lucy. Peter wanted to rub his forehead conspicuously. Sometimes being the oldest was a real headache inducer.

"As for why we have not been concerned about this friendship, that is quite easy. We trust Lucy, do we not?" Edmund's dark eyes pierced into Susan's.

"Of course we do, but that does not signify. Who is this boy that she is always cavorting with? Do we trust _him_? I have never actually seen him, have you?"

Edmund met Peter's eyes. They had their own theories about that.

"Susan, have you ever considered that perhaps there is no boy?" Peter finally asked gently.

Susan stared, wide-eyed at one brother, and then the other, "What do you mean?"

"I expect he means," Edmund began, turning back to face the window, "that it may be that there is no friend in the forest. There is a chance that Lucy has invented him. None of us have ever seen him. I used to think…" Here he paused, shaking his head, "No, I have never really seen her with anyone, either."

"But why would she do such a thing? She is always telling us of the adventures she has with 'Blaze'. You think she could be lying? Lucy is an honest girl. And if the two of you really believe she isn't meeting a friend out there, then what _is _she doing? This is just another reason that proves that we need to do something about this."

Peter stood and paced to the nearby bookshelves, "Forgive me for contradicting, but it doesn't prove anything. She likely does venture out to meet her friend. She'd not be lying, perhaps only pretending. Lucy has a very active imagination, as all of us know. For young children, there is not always a distinct line between pretend and real. And you must remember, Su, that despite how much Lucy loves us, we are all very different from her."

"Loneliness can be a powerful feeling. How many of her friends are Human and her age? How many of her friends look at life like one big adventure, as she does? I consider Lucy, though my sister, the closest of friends. But the reality is that I cannot keep up with her. I do not desire adventure. She chases after it with vigor." Edmund rested his forearm against the frame of the window.

"You think that she is lonely, that she has created an entire person to keep her company. That is your explanation for all the mystery surrounding him."

Peter ran a finger along the shelf, collecting a thin film of dust. He frowned, unconcerned "I, at least, find it likely." _He needed to clean his study._

"Think, Su. What is a Human boy doing in the forest? What has he been doing there for the past three years? There are perhaps a few Archenlanders who have settled in Narnia since we were crowned, but this boy was here _before_ then, according to Lucy. Which is impossible. We are the only Narnian Sons of Adam and Daughters of Eve."

"You both seem to have already given this particular subject a great deal of thought. I trust your wisdom in these matters, brothers. I only think— what if this boy is real? What if he is real, and we do not know anything about him aside from what Lucy relays to us? Lucy is getting older, what if he hurts her?"

"And forcing her away from him, would that not also hurt her?"

"It might, but we have not even established whether he is real or not, Edmund! There are other children in Archenland. Could she not find a friend there? We could send her to stay with King Lune for a time. I'm sure he would not be averse to it."

"Why do you so violently disapprove, Susan?" Fire leaped from Edmund's eyes, "Is it because he is perhaps low-born, or wild? Is it because they met in the woods, which does not approach your definition of propriety? What I know is that she comes home from the woods contented. Yes, we might send her to Archenland," a bite entered his tone, "where she might meet a companion more suited to her station, a respectable, decorous friend. Which, to be clear, sounds like someone you would enjoy associating with, not her. But she would be just as lonely upon returning to Narnia. That friend would be thousands of miles away, and it would fix nothing."

Susan stared at Edmund dumbfounded. She angled to face Peter when he interrupted.

"Edmund, you must cool your temper. Dear sister, Edmund is right, though he could have stated his case with less zeal and more care for you. We, too, were once nothing more than common people, lest we forget."

The fair-haired king's shoulders slumped at the reproach, "I crave pardon, sister. I know you mean well. But Lucy is not you. You must cease trying to change her, for she will not be changed."

Susan nodded at both the reprimand and apology.

Edmund was silent. He had a strong hunch that even if he and his siblings attempted to search Peter Pan out, they would find nothing but a ghost. But he could not begrudge Susan the wish to meet seemingly such a close acquaintance of their youngest sibling. He was not the one who would make the final decision.

Peter reseated himself heavily. "It appears to me that your primary concern is with Lucy aging."

For the first time in the conversation, Edmund fully turned to the other two. It was clear that his brother's observation surprised him. The fair haired brother was usually the one to make such deductions. Brief disappointment with himself flickered as he realized that he had been quick to assume that Susan was once more only concerned with public appearances, that this was nothing deeper. While that may have been part of her motivation, it was now abundantly clear that it was not her only fear. He had not judged the situation objectively. The color leeched from his tanned skin.

The Just King's voice trembled as he spoke, "She's too young for that, Susan." He hesitated, "Isn't she?"

Peter's dark eyebrows knit together, "Too young for what?"

Susan twisted her hands in her lap and spoke directly to Edmund, "Some would disagree."

Exasperation filled his tone, "Why didn't you come right out and say that from the beginning?" Edmund's countenance darkened significantly. "He could be much older than her."

"Yes."

"What in the blazes are you two talking about?"

"She's very trusting."

Susan nodded.

"Why do I not understand a word that's coming from your mouths?"

"Aslan! What if he's Calormene?"

"Or unprincipled."

Peter stood, fists on his hips and thundered, "Tell me right now what it is the two of you are going on about."

Susan and Edmund blinked at him in surprise, and Edmund spoke, "But Pete, you're the one who brought it up."

"Brought what up?" His tone was bewildered.

"Lucy getting older," Susan looked at him askance, and then said as if he was slow, while Edmund winced painfully, "Lucy is very pretty."

"Yes, I suppose. What does that possibly have to—" Peter pieced together their conversation as they gazed at him expectantly. A brief expression of horror graced his face when the puzzle came together. Then he gave the two of them a stern look.

"First of all, though Lucy is trusting, we have no evidence of her friend being _unprincipled_, and Calormene, almost impossible. Isn't he a redhead? Second, we know Lucy to have shown excellent judgment of character. I do not think she would be so easily drawn in. Had such a tragedy occurred, I am certain we would have noticed a significant change in her. Lucy is a pretty child, but she is _not_ a woman. Her hair, I know, marks her as a prize," a flash of disgust marred his severe expression, "but I think we would know from her demeanor if something untoward were happening."

The siblings looked properly chastised for jumping to conclusions.

"I only ask," Susan nearly whispered, "That we investigate. I desire to protect our sister just as you do. I would not wish to tear her happiness from her. She deserves a childhood more than all of us combined. And I trust, of course, that Aslan will protect her, as He always has. But she has no mother or father, and I find that the responsibility must lie on us to ensure that this boy is no danger to her. Regardless of whether we should have confirmed this before now, I would like, at least, to meet him."

The two kings met each other's gazes and nodded. None of the children (and the eldest two were nearing adulthood, at that) liked to speak of their parents. All had hazy memories of them. They knew that there _had been_ parents in their lives at some point. When they had vanished, why, or how, they could not recall. So while there was no sadness, for they could not remember how their parents had been lost to them, there was an ache where they knew they should be. It was this mention of their absent parents that brought the boys to full agreement with Susan.

"We all wish the best for Lucy. On this, I trust we will always agree," Peter declared. "We will go down to the woods and see if we can find this mysterious friend of Lucy's. I'm certain the Cair can manage without us for an hour or two excursion. But we will not intrude on their games, and we will depart when we have our answers, whatever they may be. We will take no action against the boy, if any requires to be taken, until we have discussed the matter further," The command clear in his voice indicated that it was no longer simply Peter speaking, but the High King of Narnia.

* * *

This boy is manifestly no son of yours, for your cheek is as dark as mine but the boy is fair and white like the accursed but beautiful barbarians who inhabit the remote North."

_Chapter 1_

There were about half a dozen men and Shasta had never seen anyone like them before. For one thing, they were all as fair-skinned as himself, and most of them had fair hair.

_Chapter 4_

_Horse and His Boy_

**Words-drip-from-my-fingertips**


	9. Concealed

The kings and queens of Narnia had seen and experienced more than most children had and a certain level of maturity was required of each of them as leaders of their nation. Even the younger royals had a maturity about them that would be surprising to most adults. But of course, they hadn't always been rulers, and sometimes they still slipped into habits reminiscent of those of English schoolchildren. Even the wisest, most intelligent, and socially mature child of your acquaintance will occasionally do something very childish and foolish that will remind you at once that they are, indeed, still a child. Therefore, you must forgive them, for they could not _always_ make prudent decisions.

And being humble, we must also be reminded that as adults we often make foolish decisions as well, and are less likely to acknowledge our failings later.

The majority of the time the Pevensie children did meet these standards of nobility. However, they were, after all, still children. And Susan especially would be endlessly embarrassed if it was discovered that they were spying and eavesdropping on the youngest royal. She liked to think of herself as never doing anything childish and being _quite _grown up. To be entirely fair, Susan had always been quite tall as a little girl, and continued to be so as a young woman. She had some reasonable ideas about both looking grown up and acting it.

It doesn't feel quite right to say that they had tracked their sister, for it had been quite easy to find her. One merely had to traipse after the imprints her feet left in the undergrowth to a path of her own making and then wander along that until one stumbled upon her. She made her destination no secret, but then, no one had ever bothered to follow her before. It was something that, in her innocence, she would never have considered. If she had, she would not have suspected malevolent intent.

The siblings did not know, of course, that their covert investigation would do them little good. And they would not know for a good many years hence. The three huddled behind a tree, peeking out at Lucy amidst the forest. Edmund felt particularly uneasy about their operation. Perhaps he was the only one to notice, but he was almost positive that the tree they had chosen was not amenable to assisting them, and was actually leaning away, in an attempt to expose them. He should have supposed that the trees would favor Lucy as much as the rest of Narnia did. Lucy wasn't daft, he trusted that she _would _discover them, and they looking the fools. He had suggested simply approaching and speaking to their sister, but the others had not agreed that was best way to get their answers. Edmund personally would rather have Lucy briefly angry with him than silently disappointed.

And she certainly would be disappointed if she were to learn that her siblings had felt the need to spy on her.

She was facing away from them and humming quietly, a tune that the monarchs did not recognize. She was standing very still, an unusual state for her. Leaves whispered against each other, weaving their noises into her song as though they were meant to be part of the instrumentation. Abruptly, her song dropped off. Without moving anything but her head, she deliberately swivelled and looked in their direction. They all ducked hurriedly out of view, with their hearts pounding.

_This is it, _thought Edmund.

"I know you believe that you have the sharpest vision and keenest ears in all of Narnia, Peter, but I have a fine set of ears as well, and I promise I can hear you! Stop sneaking about. You won't surprise me any longer, I'm quite aware of your presence."

Her gaze seemed to pierce through the tree that was their reluctant protection. Peter Pevensie grimaced at his siblings and, concluding that they had already been found out, stepped out from behind the poorly chosen hiding spot. Susan jumped after him with surprising agility, forcefully yanking him by his wrist back behind the tree.

"She wasn't speaking to you," Susan gestured at Lucy's form beyond. The young girl had turned away from them, and in time to miss the revelation of her spying fellow rulers.

Now, what occurred from this point forward appeared and sounded very different from Lucy's side than it did from behind the tree. Accordingly, I will relay to you what Lucy saw. For confusion and false security was all that the Pevensies would gain from their ill-devised plan. They knew not all the facts of the existence of Lucy's friend, and being true, neither did Lucy. They watched closely, but to no avail. They would never see what they came to, it was the rule: the one they did not know. The rule, that perhaps, reader, even you not yet understand.

Peter Pan (who, in fact, Lucy _had_ been talking to) casually stepped out of the woods with his hands raised in a position of surrender, "Alright, you caught me this time. But just barely, mind you."

Lucy's eyes narrowed at him, "I often catch you. You are just loath to admit it."

"I am much too cunning to be caught often!"

"I presume then that you mean to say you are not at all cunning," she broke in her teasing to gaze around in wonder, "Blaze, I was almost certain you were on the other side of me, though. Not over here. The wind must have turned me around."

He glanced over her shoulder knowingly, "Over there?" He pointed behind her.

She followed his direction to the suspicious clump of oaks. "Yes, precisely."

"There are other creatures in this wood who would like to spy on you," Peter responded vaguely.

"Who do you suppose it was? Do you think it was a dwarf?"

Peter glowered darkly in the Pevensies' direction, "Or three."

"Three dwarfs!"

(You might be interested to know that Edmund took especial offence to this comment, as he had not yet hit that growth spurt that all young men eagerly wait for. Consequently, he was still rather slight in height.)

"Does it matter?"

"Certainly it matters. Do you think that they are angry? Oh, what if they are upset over the acorn incident?"

"They were good sports about the acorns, I think they enjoyed themselves as much as we did. Besides we cleaned up after ourselves."

"Did we? I can't remember cleaning it up."

"It is possible it was the squirrels who cleaned it up," Peter shrugged, "Anyway, I didn't see anyone."

"The squirrels are always getting involved," Lucy remarked absently, "Should I go apologize?"

"I don't see the necessity. Besides, those who listen where they shouldn't rarely hear useful or happy information."

"If anyone was here, likely they are gone now. I can visit with the dwarfs later and listen to their stories of gem hunting longer than is considered polite. That will be apology enough."

"What tortures you must bear!"

She grinned at him agreeably, "Tortures that conclude with a slice of warm pie."

He grinned back, deep dimples making an appearance. "You must save me a slice."

"Always. Do you know that many of our friends are quite under the impression that I come up with mischief on my own, though they remember your presence at the time? You influence me and my reputation poorly."

"That depends on your view."

"It is Susan's, I am sure."

"Not yours, then?"

She tilted her head thoughtfully, "No, not mine. I don't much care for my reputation. Let them think what they will."

"A race?" queried Peter, concluding their previous topic.

"The top of that tree," confirmed Lucy, pointing.

"Go!" shouted Peter.

Lucy scrambled up the branches, skirts in a disarray, and was quite proud to see that she had bested her playmate. The remaining Pevensie siblings took this opportunity to slink off back to the Cair. They were satisfied that their sister was in no danger, that 'Peter' couldn't be anything but imaginary, and while this was odd, it was not of particular concern. An active, healthy imagination could not harm Lucy.

Both children descended from the tree, Peter arguing vehemently that he _had _won, and Lucy refusing to agree. They stood at a stalemate, both with arms crossed across their chests and staring at the other.

"Well then, that is that." Lucy plopped unceremoniously to the ground and grabbed Peter's ankle, pulling him down beside her with a _WHOOMP!_

She laughed her clear, ringing laugh as Peter lay where he had landed on his back, arms remaining crossed on his narrow chest indignantly.

Lucy laid, limbs splayed carelessly in the undergrowth of her friend's (she wasn't sure when she had come to think of them as his) woods. Strands of her unmanageable mane mingled with the coppery curls of her partner in crime, who was laid out in a similar fashion. They had been lying like this for nearly an hour in companionable silence. Just a short time previous, Peter would have struggled with the idea that he would willfully stay still for longer than a quarter of a minute. Here he was doing just that, and he did not find it strange at all.

"Do you ever feel small, Blaze?"

"Never," he vowed.

"Sometimes, I do."

"Well, you are rather little!" At this he grabbed both her hands and sprung upright, pulling her with him. "See?" He measured out the top of her head to below his shoulder. "I must be almost half a meter taller," he crowed.

"I assume you're right enough, but I meant it differently."

"Oh." He sank down to the forest floor once again, and she followed.

"You know even better than I how very large the world," she paused and amended, "worlds—are. How can one _not_ feel small? I am one very little person among thousands and thousands."

"Funny, it is for that exact same reason that I do not feel small. There are worlds upon worlds, and thousands of people everywhere. And someone chose to make me one of them."

"Aslan, you mean?"

"Yes, I suppose that's what you call Him here."

They fell silent for several minutes.

"I know the others, I mean my brothers and sister, they leave me to do as I wish. Of this I cannot complain, only… I am queen also. Should I not have to make decisions to keep Narnia safe, to protect the land I love?"

"You cannot tell me that you played no role in the reclamation of Narnia, Valiance," Peter reasoned.

"Surely, I did. But since then, what have I done? What say have I had, what opinion have I given? What decision have I made? Sometimes, I think that I am too small, too young, and that is why they do not hear me."

Peter propped his chin up with his hand and simply stared at her for a moment with a serious expression. "I do wish you wouldn't speak of such things."

"Whatever do you mean?"

"Your time will come soon enough, as it does for everyone. There is no use being upset over how slowly it approaches. Just—" here he broke off and looked away from her briefly, before reconnecting his gaze with hers, "—do not wish to grow up any quicker. You are already going at it fast enough."

"What do you mean my time will come?" Lucy queried sharply.

"You rule Narnia in a different way," He dodged.

"And how is that?" Lucy allowed herself to be diverted.

"You know the people, and they know you. You are invited into their homes, you heal their ill, and you celebrate and mourn with them. You know Narnia more intimately than any of your siblings. You love Narnia, and Narnia knows it."

"I do not even know if Narnia likes me."

"I like you," he grinned.

A blush spread across Lucy's cheeks, and I'm afraid that Peter Pan hadn't the least idea what his words meant.

* * *

**If you've already read this chapter, I apologize for the confusion. I added a chapter, Unknown, that I didn't have in the original order. However, I highly encourage everyone to reread from the beginning. I added a lot of content today to previous chapters.**

**Words-drip-from-my-fingertips**


	10. A Story For Another Time

**UPDATE!**

**1\. A big thank you to those still reading despite slow updates. It makes a big difference to hear from you guys that you love this story as much as I do.**

**2\. There are new chapters in the chronological order you may not have read: Chapters 5 &amp; 7 (I know updates didn't go out for these chapters)**

**3\. Every single chapter has been edited, particularly 9**

**4\. I have been working (albeit slowly) and have developed a lot of new material for this story, unfortunately it is not chronological, so, lovely readers, you will not benefit from the fruits of my labor until a while from now. But rest assured I have not been doing nothing all this time.**

**5\. I get a few of you who review regularly every time I come out with a new chapter, but it is a very few. I have a great deal of silent readers. ****_I would CHALLENGE you to leave a review._**** Unless you are a writer yourself, you may not realize the encouragement that comes from hearing feedback or receiving reviews. It may not be why I write, but to know that my writing means something to someone besides myself is incredible.**

**On that note- on to the story.**

* * *

We must begin with a simple defense. Lucy did not mean to do it. It was purely unintentional, accidental, and all those words which must be employed to beg forgiveness for our she may not have been repentant of the results, she certainly was not aware of the ramifications at the time the crime was committed.

She was a young girl with all the hopes, dreams, passions, and excitements her heart and soul could be expected to hold. There was one such confusion easily found written on her heart. It was scrawled messily, neatly, in loops, boldly. Its name was Peter. _Peter, Peter Pan_ said the whispers, the echoes in the chambers of her heart. Sometimes, _Blaze _was even scrawled in the margins. But she was barely aware of this yet.

It hadn't quite occurred to her to discover it, and maybe had she spent a little more time talking with Susan, the idea would have been planted there already. But Lucy _hadn't _spent time talking with Susan the way sisters tend to do. She knew very little of the ways of young women, and very little of what it meant to feel for a boy, about a boy, any boy. To be so particularly inclined towards a specific boy meant nothing to her. She had no experience to inform her. She had no inkling of what inclination and fancy might lead to.

For Lucy, thoughts of Peter Pan were second nature, and were merely the way of things. She was highly unaware of her own emotions involved in the situation. All it took were a few (poorly chosen) words to jolt her from complacency. They shocked her into noticing, noticing him, noticing her, and feeling the full effects of everything she hadn't known was building inside of her.

The words were simple. The words were honest, true. Perhaps that is what made them so effective. The words were these:

"I like you."

This was how Lucy first learned to blush.

He did not know what he meant, or what he could mean, but suddenly, it seemed that she did. She understood a world that she hadn't before. She was happy.

She was happier, perhaps, than she had a right to be if she had understood that Peter Pan really did not mean anything beyond platonic. He meant what he said, but _precisely_ what he had said. Lucy was bubbling over with joy, in a way that had been previously unknown to her. She was giddy, and she didn't know what to do with herself. She had to content herself with humming and skipping, but all that extra joy seemed to overflow and she glowed.

She hummed, skipped, danced, across the grassy field that separated the woods from the Cair. She lingered upon each cobbled step in the courtyard, each marble one in the palace. She sashayed down the halls and twirled into her bedchamber. She plopped into her bed, pulled up her covers, and settled into a blissful sleep. She overflowed with happiness, with joy, at the discovery of her inclination towards Peter.

It is always a fluttery, hopeful, and happy feeling at the very first. Those feelings would subside soon, but not yet, and she would begin to understand that matters of the heart are rarely so simple.

Meanwhile, Lucy slept deeply, peacefully through the night. She was unaware of the damage she had wrought. That would soon be remedied. It was brought to her attention nearly the moment she awoke.

Queen Lucy drifted awake from a beautiful dream of lying in a field of wildflowers, all of their fragrances mixing together in the loveliest way imaginable. She shifted on her mattress, savoring the comfort of the soft quilts around her. An odd texture brushed her face, and her eyes shot open.

_Not a dream!_

Lucy was surrounded on all sides by riotous colors in cheerful wildflowers. Her mouth dropped open in shock as she gazed around herself, and spoke aloud, "I've forgotten to return to the Cair, I must have fallen asleep. Oh, Susan will have my head!"

She jumped up, only to be shocked once more. This _was_ her room in the Cair. For there was the window, the wardrobe, the vanity, and the door. Here she was sitting on the bed. It was her room, but it wasn't. Every inch of her floor was covered in a carpet of vibrant wildflowers. She dropped down to her feet and stood, turning and turning in wonder until she was dizzy.

Her forehead wrinkled in contemplation as she looked about herself, and then she exclaimed "How perfectly wonderful!" She cocked her head and murmured, "And odd."

Observing that she was still dressed in yesterday's outfit, Lucy burst from her rooms. This was something she had to show Ed! He might know what to make of it. In the midst of her excitement as she tore down the halls, Lucy noted the strange behavior of the castle inhabitants. There was an air of curiosity, and many were gathered in large groups, discussing some matter in whispers. In her flight to the library, skidding down the grand staircase, she pulled to a halt and backpedaled a few steps. For there stood both the High King and the Just King at the foot of the stairs.

She tugged on the sleeve of the latter's shirt and said breathlessly, "Ed! Ed...should have seen...all over...woke up...flowers!"

He looked over her head and past her. Both he and Peter were gazing up the staircase in the most perplexing manner. "Yes, I know. The flowers."

"You know? But how could you know?"

Edmund's eyes flickered to hers and he laughed lowly before grasping her shoulders and turning her around to face the staircase. "Look."

Lucy gasped. In her hurry she had been quite oblivious to her surroundings. Marching up the staircase in a bit of a haphazard path were wildflowers of every color.

"How did you do it, Lucy?"

Lucy turned in surprise to her eldest brother, "How did I do what?"

Sir Peter Wolf's-Bane gave her an exasperated look, "You cannot claim it was not you."

Bewildered, Lucy replied, "But-"

"It ends at your room. We checked, of course."

"I don't know…" she trailed off uncertainly.

"Have you looked outside today?" Edmund piped up.

"No?"

"Then look now. Towards the tree line."

So she did. And what should she behold but a strange, winding, looping pattern of flowers leading from the edge of the trees, across the grass, to the very steps of Cair Paravel.

Her eyes widened and she looked between her brothers, "It was me, then? But, how?"

"That is precisely what Pete would like to know," he slapped Peter's shoulder, "But I would like to venture a guess that you don't know how it happened either."

"I should have expected something like this," grumbled Peter, "Flowers in the middle of the castle."

"What we've discovered," Continued Edmund, adopting the tone of a tour guide, "is that the flowers act as if they have been planted in the stone. They are quite alive and regrow when we attempt to pluck them. There's no helping it. The flowers must stay."

"Truly?" asked Lucy.

"Truly." confirmed Edmund.

"What I want to know is how you always manage to come up with the one challenge I am absolutely unprepared for, Lu. We shall have to have the gardeners maintain these indoor flowers too now, I suppose. Ridiculous!"

"I don't mean to cause you trouble, my King."

Peter sighed, and gave her a small smile, "I know, Lu. You've certainly surprised me this time, though. I wonder if they will remain where they have already grown, or if the growth will have to be contained?" This last was muttered to himself.

She smiled brightly in return, "Oh, and you haven't seen my rooms, yet!"

"Your rooms?" He blinked rapidly.

She only turned to Edmund, reminded of her task, and began dragging him away. "That's what I came to tell you, Ed. You have to come see my room! There are flowers everywhere."

This would henceforth only be known by those involved as _The Flower Incident_. In fact, in much later years, Lucy would find that it had even been recorded in a history of their reign.


	11. Puzzles of a Sort

****Another inserted chapter****

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The wind ruffled through leaves and curls alike, the two mingled together along with a healthy helping of dirt. Twenty thin, pale fingers with dirty, cracked fingernails gripped rough bark. Two youths sat shoulder to shoulder, knee to knee. As their strong, straight legs swung in opposition they would occasionally brush against the other's. A golden halo of frizz surrounded a gaze narrowed in thought.

"Blaze, why do you not grow? I do believe I'll catch you one of these days."

"I don't ever want to grow up to be a man, I want to always be a boy and to have fun."

"Yes, as you've said before, but don't you know that everyone grows up? Eventually, I mean. Everyone must. I certainly haven't a choice in the matter."

"Not me."

"But that's ridiculous."

"In the Neverland, they never found it so strange."

"Well they ought to have. What's a Neverland?"

"It's the place I lived before. It's what I called it."

"I've never heard of it. Is it in Narnia?"

Peter gave her a curious look before shaking his head, "No, not at all."

"Oh," she paused in thought, "We used to live in England, you know. It's not in Narnia either. Is the Neverland rather like there?"

"An island. Precisely the opposite. And I lived in Kensington Gardens sometimes, so I should know the difference."

"I don't remember much about England, except that it was noisy and smelly."

Peter hummed in agreement.

"You must not have lived on the Neverland long, though."

"Plenty long enough. I ran away when I was born."

"Why?" queried Lucy.

"They were going to make me be a man."

"But a baby isn't a man. Not right away. It takes an awful long time."

"I won't ever be a man."

"Blaze," she sighed, "didn't the Lost Boys, or the pirates, or the Piccaninnies find it odd when you said such things?"

"Never," was his confident reply.

"But that's silly. Of course you're getting older. Wouldn't they notice if you weren't?"

"The pirates and redskins were too daft to care about stuff like that. And the Boys age and leave, so they couldn't be bothered either. I'm the leader, what I say goes. I haven't gotten older in ages. That's the way it should be."

"Why were you the leader? Did they choose you?"

"What an idea! I'm half too clever for that! I've always been in charge, of course. You don't think anyone else can fly or live forever, do you?"

"But," she insisted, trying to make sense of his baffling logic, "If you're the leader, why are you in _Narnia_? Shouldn't you be leading the Boys on the Neverland?"

He shifted, evidently discomfited by the question, "Well, I _can _leave the Neverland."

"Then why haven't you returned? You've been in Narnia for ages, like me."

"It's one of the rules," Peter winced, "There are a couple, though I forget them. You can't find the Neverland by looking for it. It has to be looking for you."

"So you have looked for it, then?"

"Yes. I cannot find it anymore."

"Do you think that's what happened to those other Lost Boys?"

"Nah. They just go nutty and grow up, then they can't go back anymore because they don't believe. They blind themselves, really. All adults do. They can't find the Neverland because they can't see it."

"But then, doesn't that mean you _are_ growing up?"  
"I am not!" He looked affronted.

"If you're not growing up, and you're not growing older, then how old are you now?" She asked reasonably.

Peter, who really knew nothing about the subject said smugly, "I don't know, but I am quite young."

Lucy huffed, "That's not very specific. You know, the High King is sixteen and he is so tall he can easily throw me over his shoulder and lug me about. It's an awful disadvantage being so short when he seizes upon me like that. Soon, Edmund will shoot up too, and then together they'll cruelly take pleasure in teasing me by holding things out of my reach, and such. Ed goes on and on about these things being the natural rights of an older brother, but I don't think that's fair in the slightest. What about the rights of a younger sister?"

Peter shrugged, and rightly replied, "I wouldn't know."

There was a lull in the conversation, and then, "I was being true, Blaze. I think I shall outgrow you soon."

"Stop that. Don't say it anymore!" Peter turned wide eyes on her, "you must promise you will not. Promise that you will _not_ get taller than me."

Lucy's mouth formed a little "o" in surprise. Then she gave a startled half-laugh, and watched him closely as she said, "I hardly have a choice in the matter. Besides, I shan't mind getting taller. You know, you'll probably be taller than me anyway. Boys usually have girls beat in that competition."

For all that Peter had expounded on his notion of not growing up, Lucy hadn't really taken him for his word.

Peter's hands tugged at his curls in agitation, "You aren't listening. I won't get taller, I won't! I won't get older either. If you would stop being so selfish you wouldn't get older either."

There was fire in his tone, and flames in his face, orange to match his curls. There was a great deal about Peter Pan that Lucy still did not understand. One thing was how he could be perfectly lovely one minute and beastly the next. To be accused of being selfish when she had only been talking of height!

Lucy swung down from the low-lying branch, "I won't speak to you if you're so intent on being nasty, Peter Pan. It is not selfish to grow up. It is perfectly normal. And if you don't think so, then you're not normal at all. Besides, I'm not thinking of growing up anytime soon. How impossible you are."

She marched away, fuming silently. She hardly heard the flutter as Peter followed after her. Then, there he was, planted in her warpath, all remorse.

"I'm sorry, Valiance. I didn't mean it."

It didn't escape her notice that he had not apologized for anything in particular. This was his norm. She wasn't certain he knew how to make a proper apology. But her heart was soft, and towards him, it had always been especially soft. He was forgiven. It didn't take any pleading on his part. At least, not _much._

Lucy knew and perceived less about herself than she did of others. She had little idea how near she truly was to growing up in earnest. If she had, she wouldn't have been troubled. She didn't understand the ramifications, and by the time she did, it would be too late.


	12. To be a Queen

**SURPRISE! A quick update!**

**To my reviewers:**

**Calyn**

**Thank you for your thoughtful review (though it is not the first) in response to last chapter. It made ****_me _****feel appreciated, and I loved your honesty. I had just spent too many hours at the library, revising and writing for this story in a computer lab. I determined it was time to drive home, no matter how I wished I might stay. I saw an email on my phone upon arriving home and it was your review. It stirred me up so much that I had to pull out my notebook and delve back into the lives of the Pevensies, Narnia, and Peter Pan and write some more even though a computer was not at my disposal. A review has never made me feel that way before, so I must thank you once again for stepping out and leaving a lovely review.**

**FlightFeathers**

**I hope I don't stray too far from the realm of plausibility when it comes to character exploration. C.S. Lewis, though well respected by myself, did not focus in on specifics of character, only general aspects. This is how I have mostly always imagined Lucy, and of course my own experience and character comes into play as I invest in the characters. I am pleased that you took the time to go back and read the fifth chapter. If you have been wishing for more Susan she will be appearing more in the next two or three chapters, so stick around.**

**Guest/Lady Laughter**

**Brave reviewer! I honor your gumption in rising to the occasion. I'm exceedingly pleased to hear that you find my tale unpredictable. You shall have to continue holding on tight to find where this story flies, as it even surprises me on occasion. I make you no promises, and can only advise you to stick with me, and hope that you will be satisfied as I when this tale reaches its resolution.**

**Chise Sakamoto**

**Sometimes all it takes is a word.**

* * *

There is a moment in all of our lives when we begin to think of growing up. We begin to think of how things will change and how we will change. We think of the things we will accomplish, and we begin to formulate dreams that differ from those of childhood. We assess our world with more consciousness. We begin to evaluate our actions and how they affect our world. This is not usually a moment that we can look back upon in our personal history and say, "There it is." There is no single, identifiable event that could prevent the process from occurring. But by _thinking_ of growing up, we actually begin to do so.

Lucy Pevensie, the girl-queen, would not always be called so. She knew this well. Having a nation's well-being upon her shoulders gave her an awareness of her limited years of childhood. Lucy chose in her life to marvel at the beautiful things in the world, despite her knowledge of the ugly. So she lasted a bit longer than others have in her position. With Lucy, once it began, the process of growing up would be very rapid.

Having been left to her own devices, she very well may have lasted even a few years more. The process could have stretched longer. But she was not left to grow naturally, for Narnia felt the eventual need for a grown queen as much as Lucy herself did. She, who was one so keenly in tune with Aslan's will. It is ironic then, that Lucy, in the end, would not be the queen Narnia would be permitted to keep.

One week following her twelfth birthday, Lucy awoke to the softly bickering voices of all three of her siblings.

"But I want to wake her now, Susan."

"Peter, you are pouting like a child, behave like the king you are."

"Su, you do realize that we are all crouched on the floor in the equivalent of a meadow of flowers, attempting to surprise our sister when she awakes, do you not? There is nothing dignified about the three of us at the moment."

"Stop looking at me with your logic."

"Keep at it, Ed. You can be the distraction, while I wake her."

A sharp _crack!_ rang out, and Lucy guessed that it had originated from Susan's hand.

"Ow," came the responsive whine, "I'm High King here, I should be in charge of this operation. If we were just going to let her sleep, then why did we come here?"

"Because, wise brother, if we are not here the moment she wakes, we may not catch her before she disappears on some adventure or other."

At the closure of this statement, Lucy swung her upper body down over the side of her bed unannounced. Lucy was pleased to elicit three startled yelps with her upside-down appearance.

"If you meant to allow me to sleep, you might have waited outside my door. And if you meant to wake me, you might have done it sooner. I believe that whatever your intention was, you may have botched it."

The boys leaped up eagerly, while Susan rose with more decorum, dusting off her skirts and shaking out wrinkles that did not exist.

"If you are awake, I count myself successful," spoke His Majesty.

Lucy laughed lightly at the look that Susan directed towards Peter at this comment. He ignored his mildly irate sister and leaned across the bed, pulling Lucy into a warm hug, "Happy Birthday, Lucy."

"I feel I should thank you," she mumbled into his chest, "but you ought to know that my birthday was a sennight ago."

Edmund clarified, "We know. We wanted to wait until all the excitement was over to get to the important gifts."

"The first of which-" Peter leaned all his weight on the little queen until she tipped backwards into her mattress helplessly.

"Pete!"

"-A tickle attack for a lifetime!"

Lucy shrieked and tried to scramble away as Peter's fingers attacked her midsection with the precision that only comes from years of being an elder brother. The Magnificent High King easily pinned his sister down, stemming her attempts to escape. Tears streamed down her face in tandem with her giggles when he finally released her.

"It's not fair when you catch me by surprise like that! Besides, you're bigger than I. 'Tis an unfair advantage. Isn't it, Ed?"

He looked at her gravely, "I'm afraid this case falls under the official rights and privileges of an elder brother. This happens to be one of them. And so you see, the High King is quite justified. Case closed."

"Edmund!" groaned Lucy, "You are intended to defend me, not my opponent!"

"Would you rather I had told a falsehood?"

Lucy's eyes narrowed at Edmund, "You're a tricky one, you are."

"I find I quite like this turning of tables. Lucy, I have determined you should have a birthday more often so Ed here will side with me more often."

"The thing with birthdays is, see, they are kind of an annual event."

"This is a dilemma indeed."

"Enough! It is time for the two of you to go! Shoo! We'll be out when she is ready," Interrupted Susan abruptly, tired of waiting out the discussion.

"Ready? Ready for what?" Came Lucy's plaintive query.

Peter obediently paced to the door and waved at her, stage-whispering, "See you on the other side, comrade."

Edmund merely followed him out, allowing one corner of his mouth to tip up in a little half smile towards her before he closed the door behind himself.

Lucy eyed Susan warily, "What happens now?"

She clapped her hands together once, decisively, "Now we get you dressed. Up, up!"

And despite her reservations, Lucy could do nothing but obey.

Susan scurried here and there around Lucy's chambers, appearing to both be doing nothing, and something terribly important at the same time. Lucy thought she looked like a fairy. Susan did not walk, she floated, and the image was further reinforced by Susan's soft, billowing lavender gown, luxuriously long raven hair, and the meadow of flowers she occupied. If Susan herself had claimed to be a fairy, and one saw her engaged in this manner, Lucy believed that not one soul would argue otherwise.

Her drifting, fanciful thoughts abruptly halted. There was Susan, her frenzy of activity at an end. She paced towards the bed where Lucy still sat, reluctant to rise. Shocked, Lucy realized that her fairy sister was striding towards her with a pair of trousers extended in her direction. What brazenness was this? Whose trousers could these be? Would Susan accuse her of snatching them from a local boy?

But Susan merely laid them on the bed along with a brown, woven shirt and stared at Lucy expectantly, "Well? What are you waiting for?"

Lucy looked back and forth between Susan and the garment again. She recoiled. Was she dreaming?

"You cannot be in earnest?"

Susan sighed, "I know, they _are_ odd looking, aren't they? But you'll need them for what you'll be learning."

"But, those are trousers, aren't they? You want me to wear them?"

"That _is_ why I have them here. Will you not oblige me? I never expected you to protest trousers, Lucy. This should be a dream for you, or are you just averse to the idea on principle because I proposed it?"

"I just never imagined wearing trousers. It's awfully unusual, isn't it? I've never heard of such a thing being done. It doesn't seem right, somehow."

Susan sighed again, more deeply. "Yes, you have heard of it being done. You have even had your own pair before. I suppose you don't remember because it was before. I scarcely remember, myself."

Lucy looked at Susan doubtfully once more and slipped into the offending article of clothing cautiously. "If you really mean for me to wear them."

"You'll find they are not so terribly uncomfortable as they may seem. Now, come. You have long had need to learn to braid your hair."

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**That's all for today folks! As always, please review. For meeeeeeeeeeeeeee**

"Peter, Adam's Son," said Father Christmas "Here, Sir," said Peter. "These are your presents," was the answer, "and they are tools, not toys. The time to use them is perhaps near at hand. Bear them well." With these words he handed to Peter a shield and a sword. Peter was silent and solemn as he received these gifts for he felt they were a very serious kind of present.

...he handed her {Susan} a bow and a quiver full of arrows and a little ivory horn. "It does not easily miss."

He gave her a little bottle of what looked like glass (but people said afterwards that it was made of diamond) and a small dagger. "Why, Sir," said Lucy. "I think-I don't know-but I think I could be brave enough."

_Chapter 10_

_The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe_

**Words-drip-from-my-fingertips**


	13. Disclosure

**IT HAS BEEN SO LONG SINCE I POSTED A CHAPTER!**

**Loyal readers, I am so, so sorry. I just got a new computer a month ago, so that should make this a lot easier. I actually have a solid 50 pages of material I haven't posted yet, because I have been stuck on working chronologically through the story, so I have many bits and pieces of (and a couple full) future chapters.**

**I will try to close some of those gaps in the next two months, and post more frequently.**

**Let me know if you've stuck around waiting for this chapter!**

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Lucy stepped into the courtyard and the bright sun looking neater than either of the kings had come to expect of her. Her hair was wound in a fuzzy braid over one shoulder, a dark shirt tucked into a pair of trousers belted at her waist, and her feet hidden away in a pair of leather boots. Queen Susan stood proudly behind her in all her royal attire.

The contrast between the two was clearer than it had ever been before, and yet, it somehow felt right to those who observed it.

Edmund beckoned the girls closer, and they came, Lucy taking long strides. She was eager to discover what her siblings were about. How oddly they were acting! Peter stepped forward and spoke before she could inquire as to their purpose.

"Let us walk, and I will explain all to you, Lucy. I am surprised that you have not burst from all the questions you must have conjured by now." He offered her his arm, and after only a moment's contemplation, she threaded her hand through his elbow. Edmund and Susan mimicked the posture on their right.

The four strolled unconcernedly for a few feet before Peter spoke his mind.

"There are certain lessons that have not been part of your schooling previously." Lucy shot him a dark look and he held out a raised palm toward her to halt the complaint on her tongue, "I know that you would dispose of your education altogether if you had a choice in the matter, but trust that these lessons will be useful in the future despite how useless they may seem now. They may someday save your life."

Lucy blew out a breath, "I'm not sure how more lessons can be any sort of proper gift, as you are well aware that I loathe them. I will endeavor to apply myself to them, if you wish it, my King."

"The reality is that your lessons have been lacking. We have taught you history and geography, maths, formal writing, and the olden songs of the bards, but we have been hesitant to include lessons of a more serious nature. They shall be included in your regular education henceforth. You were not ready before, but now you are of an age where this knowledge may become necessity."

"But why now, Pete? And would you give up the mystery? Stop being so vague. What shall I be learning?"

High King Peter grinned at his youngest sister's blunt and impatient tongue, "Lessons on diplomacy, which I know you may be reluctant to learn. You must learn to choose which battles must be fought, and which you must allow compromise to hold true. I believe you have much to learn in this area. We intend for you to rule beside the rest of us in equality someday, you know. We must equip you with the correct tools in order to get you to that point."

Susan's soft voice joined the explanation, "You are beginning to grow up Lucy. Now is the time for change. We did wait for as long as the rest of us thought we reasonably could. We have agreed that now is the time."

Lucy stared at Susan, "Me? Growing up?" She wasn't sure the idea had ever occurred to her. She knew that _people_ grew up, but she certainly hadn't ever thought to apply the concept to herself. She connected gazes with Edmund as if in confirmation, and he gave her a decisive nod.

He was the one that spoke next, "Some of the most important lessons you must learn are those of defense. Defense of yourself, of your person, and defense of Narnia, of your people. We are all learning to be strong as rulers, not only in mind and spirit, but in body as well. You shall be joining our ranks as we continue to further this aim. There are few suits more noble than the defense of those who might require our protection, or further, Aslan's protection. When we were crowned, we swore to be Aslan-fearing rulers. As such we cannot count our lives as being of any greater value than any man. Our lives are forfeit if we do not sacrifice for our people, for Aslan's people. Do you understand?"

"I think so, yes."

The reins returned to the High King, "You aren't expected to go to war, if one were to occur, Lucy. Neither you or Susan participated in the actual battle against Jadis, and Ed and I would like to have matters remain that way. We cannot always predict where our enemies may lie in wait. Someday, they may attack us within the safety of Cair Paravel itself. War may come to us, and you cannot rely on a guard, Edmund and I, or your cordial alone. Susan is not inclined toward battle, but she wields her bow as well as any of our archers. That is what we would wish for you, the ability to defend, but hopefully never the need for it."

Peter stopped and pulled a familiar, beautifully sheathed dagger from his waist and handed it to her.

"It is time you learn to use your second gift. This dagger, the sword, and the bow shall be your tools. We can start small with your little dagger, like you, Little Lu. For I do not think it was meant to lie unused for all of time. Eventually, you will learn the bow and sword, and likely humility, as well. Susan will be your archery master, and Edmund your swords master. We must, all of us, have patience with each other. It is difficult to receive correction from our siblings."

"Will you be teaching me how to use my dagger?"

The High King smiled down at her, "No, not I. Likely, Edmund will teach you that, as well. I may be a decent hand with one, but that does not make me any proper sort of instructor."

Lucy reverently extended her palms and allowed Peter to place the sheathed tool in her hands. She gazed down on it in wonder, "And you really think I am ready?"

"We, all of us, believe it to be so."

An extra drop of solemnity entered her gaze, "Then I am ready."

"Good."

"How shall I wear it?" Lucy tipped her chin up towards her brother.

"We have a belt for you. The sheath will fit on it with your sword."

Edmund towards her, "Come. We shan't do any sparring today, but I can begin to evaluate your grip."

Lucy nodded, and stepped after him, allowing her hand to fall away from her eldest brother. She followed him into the armory, where she looked around in awe. She had glanced inside briefly before, but it had never held her interest, and she had never been fully inside. It was crowded, yet organized, spears, bows, axes, swords, and helmets lined the walls and filled cases. Everything shone, reflecting off each other. The space was splendid, in a dangerous way. Then Edmund turned from where he had been digging around. 'Searching' he had called it. Lucy called it 'making a bigger mess.'

She zeroed in on the object held in his hands. A thick leather belt, and a slim blade, sheathed. She remained a wary distance away.

"Come," grinned Edmund, "It will not bite you."

She inched closer until she was close enough to touch it, "It better not, otherwise I want a refund."

Lucy watched closely as the Just King showed her how the buckles worked, how to attach and detach the sheathes for both her newly acquired sword and her dagger. Once she was fully outfitted, Edmund gave a single, satisfied nod and they exited the armory together. They stepped into the brightly sunlit courtyard once more.

"Well?" She shouted to the golden crowns, "How do I look?" She struck a series of silly poses.

"Fearsome," said Peter, still grinning.

"Certainly," was the raven Queen's reply, though her eyes were wary.

"You'll strike fear into the hearts of all within the palace."

"Goodness, Pete, I hope not," Lucy laughed.

"Let's see it now, Lu. Draw your sword, and I'll check your grip."

It was a small thing, for it was in proportion to her size, but it was metal and heavier than she expected. This was new, but her grip on the hilt was confident, and she adjusted automatically to the weight of the sword. She could hazard a guess that she would tire more easily this way.

Edmund lifted his eyebrows in surprise and addressed her from his position beside her, "This is not your first time holding a sword."

It was a statement, not a question, but Lucy answered him anyway, "I spar with Peter sometimes, only with wooden swords, but I suppose I'm familiar enough with the feel of it."

Edmund nodded, "Your form isn't any good yet, but I'll get you there," Edmund threw the High King a questioning look where he stood on the sidelines. Peter threw his hands up and shook his head back and forth.

Lucy, seeing the exchange, explained, "It was my Peter, Blaze, not our brother."

A strange look twisted the Lord of Cair Paravel's face and he looked away from the discussion. Edmund assured Lucy when she attempted to question him on the odd behavior that he would tell her about it later.

She was certain to assure him she would hold him to that.

Lucy was to become a most diligent student. She internalized the responsibility of protecting Narnia in a way that should have been expected from her. To protect the people she loved with her life seemed almost like the natural next step she had been missing. To love so deeply as to set aside fear for one's own life-this was something she could understand. It is possible that she learned her lesson a bit too well, and took it to heart farther than the High King likely ever intended her to. She set her mind to learn the craft of defense, and she would remain determined in her resolution.

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**Words-drip-from-my-fingertips**


	14. Whisper

**Look! See? A _new_ chapter.**

**This definitely deserves reviews.**

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"What are you doing?"

A dark, sarcastic eye rolled lazily in her direction, "Can you guess?"

Lucy spun around, taking in the full shelves and stuffed furniture with an exaggerated gasp, "What is this place?" She walked purposefully towards the shelf beside the table where her brother sat, and plucked a book from its depths, holding it by its binding and shaking it so its pages flapped, "What are these things? Kindling?"

She pushed the book back to its place much more respectfully, losing the sarcasm, "Libraries are just forests without any of the enjoyment, and much less usefulness."

"If you say so," Edmund responded blandly.

Lucy huffed and plopped onto the floor, every inch the defiant Queen, "I suppose you must be reading."

"Researching, actually."

"Because that makes it sound more interesting."

He turned to smirk at her, "It_ is_ interesting. I am studying historical treaties. I felt that I needed some improvement."

"Ugh," groaned Lucy, "I cannot imagine anything more dull."

"That is why they call _me_ Just, and you, Valiant. Your title does not require paperwork."

"How clever I am to have managed that."

He lifted a brow, "Indeed," before turning back to his books and notes.

A long silence passed between them. Then-

"Stop twitching. I can hear you."

"I am not _twitching_."

Edmund steadfastly scribbled onwards, "You certainly are. You may as well ask what you have come to ask."

He waited patiently as silence once more befriended them.

"It is not the only reason I am here," She paused, "It is only our brother acted so strangely earlier. Why was he so angry? Did I do something to upset him? Honestly, it was a lovely day. I think I will enjoy learning the sword. I know I am new to all of this, but I am sure I shall improve as I practice."

Edmund laid down his quill and turned to answer Lucy's earnest gaze, "Oh, Lu, it is much more complicated than that."

"What was it about, then? We were talking of- of my sparring," bafflement filled her features, "Was he angry that I was sparring on my own before I was taught? Why would he be? You were going to teach me eventually, anyway. Besides, there was no harm. I only ever used wood. They smart if you swing hard enough, but that almost never happens!"

"I think you surprised all of us, but I don't think that would upset Peter. Don't you know that we're rather proud of you?"

"But then what have I done wrong?"

The Just King wearily rubbed his palm across his forehead, "It isn't so much what you've done, but who you're doing it with."

"I…don't understand."

"I wish I did not have to tell you this. I have thought on it long, and it does not feel right to keep it to myself any longer. You will not like what I say." Lucy's head tilted to one side in challenge, and Edmund forged on, "Pete and Su, well, they don't really believe Peter Pan exists."

"_What?_"

"Lucy," his voice gentled, "Lucy, I am skeptical, too."

Lucy jumped to her feet and paced, fists perched on her hips. "Not exist! That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard!"

"I am sorry."

Lucy gesticulated wildly, "What, what, so the three of you think I am out in the woods carousing and doing what, exactly, every day?"

"I am sure I don't know what our siblings think. I hardly know what to think, myself."

"Then you all think too much. Not exist!" She exclaimed again, "Of course he exists! Why would you ever think such a horrible thing?"

"I only think he _might_ not exist," the way Edmund's face scrunched gave him away.

Lucy gaped at him, "You really don't believe me."

"The only reason…" he trailed off.

"You have a reason, of course. Well, what is it? Why don't you believe me?"

Edmund cringed, "We shouldn't have done it, Lu."

She turned to a statue. A statue with molten eyes.

He winced again, and pushed the painful truth out into the open, "We spied on you. It was wrong, it really was. It wasn't because we didn't trust you. We do. We just wanted to ensure your safety. We had never met Peter, and you were spending so much time together."

"Oh," said Lucy in a very, very small voice.

"We never meant it maliciously."

The queen retreated physically to lean against the furthest bookshelf, "Thank you for telling me. I presume my royal brother and sister meant to keep this private?" She glanced up to see Edmund's ashamed nod, "Yes, naturally." She shook her head minutely, "You could have simply asked me. I would have obliged. I haven't anything to hide, Blaze has never been a secret." She let out a breathy sigh, "We cannot now change what has already occurred."

"I am sorry, truly."

Her wary eyes met his, "You are forgiven."

"Thank you."

"Tell me, why, if you saw him with your own eyes, do you still believe him to be false?"

"That is the crux of the matter."

"Because?"

"We did not see him."

"Then you had poor planning, I rarely go out on my own any longer."

"You didn't believe yourself to be alone."

That sneaking silence weighed down the air in their lungs, each acutely aware of the emotions flickering across the other's face.

"Blaze is very much real. I will not have you tell me otherwise," she declared firmly.

"Then what would you have me believe?"

"I would not have you declare so vehemently without proof that he is not real! How would you feel if I went around telling everyone I knew who had not met you that you did not exist?"

Edmund seemed stumped for a moment, "But you haven't any proof to the contrary."

"No, perhaps I haven't, but by your reasoning, that doesn't make either my conclusion or your own more likely."

"I am just recounting what I know. We, all three of us, sat by while you conversed with…the wind? I am not sure."

Lucy jerked, as a thought widened her eyes, "None of you could see him? Not you, not Susan, not Pete?"

"None of us."

Lucy avidly searched his face for something, then traced the outline of his form, concentration twisting her face, "Remind me how old you are?"

"What does that-" Edmund shook his head roughly, and took a moment, "Fourteen."

"Fourteen," she murmured in surprise.

"Look, Lu, it's not that I don't want to believe you. I do. I've dreamed of a flying boy before, but that was a long time ago, and it was only because of all the wild tales you've told us. Dreams don't make things real."

"Oh, I see," she whispered.

"We don't mind the stories, really. I think the High King is only a little disappointed that you tell them as though they are reality."

Pity and compassion filled Lucy's direct gaze from where she still leaned against the bookshelf, and she spoke quietly, as if to herself, "You don't believe anymore. You're too grown up, I think. I never thought Blaze was entirely in earnest. I see now that he is. What else can't you see, I wonder? How awful."

"What are you talking about?"

"Simply this, brother: I will not alter my truth to match yours. Take that as you will. Though you and the others have lost your faith, I never shall. I will always remember, and I will always believe. I have no reason to stop."

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**Just you wait. There's more coming. **

**And by "wait," I mean "Leave a review, or twelve."**

**Words-drip-from-my fingertips**


	15. Breathe

**A heads-up, Chapter 11, Puzzles of a Sort is new, too.**

**To my reviewers:**

_**Jayla Fire Girl-**_** I appreciate your enthusiasm**

_**Lady**** Laughter-**_** If I am not mistaken, you have been with me since the beginning. Thank you for your perseverance. Oddly, the Pan pose was not intentional, but I suppose that is what happens when you have a character that always lives in your head, making mischief.**

**Enjoy!**

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Lucy did not despise her sister or look down upon her. In many ways, she admired her. But Susan did not have a character that Lucy easily understood. Her motivations so vastly differed from Lucy's own that she often had difficulty comprehending Susan's choices. Their characters were at odds with one another. Where Susan was a subtle, comforting warmth that filled one's bones, Lucy was a blazing bonfire, seen and felt for miles in every direction. They were both steady, but in entirely different ways. Susan, if possible, understood Lucy and her motivations even less.

That is not to say they did not love each other. They always would, despite their differences.

The two queens stood before an array of targets, firm wood in one hand and taut string in the other. Aside from those two, the archery range was bare. They always practiced their archery together at this time. Lucy supposed that Susan chose the time frame specifically because there were no witnesses. It wasn't for Lucy's sake, but for Susan's.

Susan typically began her routine with a standard bow, similar to her sister's. It was because of the second half of her practice which utilized her Aslan-breathed bow that caused her anxiety. It did not easily miss. While Susan felt the need to be familiar with the tool, she did not prefer to show off amidst others.

Lucy, quite overrun with contemplation in the silence that cushioned the air between her and Susan between _THWACK_s burst out, "You practice perfection, and yet, what use is it to you, or to anyone?"

"What can you mean?"

"I mean," she drew another arrow from her quiver, "what use is mastery of the bow if you refuse to employ that very skill? I have heard the talk, I still may not know a great deal of these things, but I do know that you wield greater skill than many of the seasoned archers. Your skill outmatches my own, though you practice less frequently. Do you intend to use this training to aim at targets all your days? What practical use can there be?"

"I take no real pleasure in my bow. Not as you do. I see that you relish your lessons with the sword, with the bow. It sends energy flowing through you. Not so, I."

"Then why learn at all?"

"Perhaps you do not recall, but I did not learn in the beginning. The bow taught me, somewhat against my will. Now I resign myself to practice. It is what the High King wishes. I try to practice obedience in the proper order of things."

"Peter is not the only authority. You are a queen too. If you don't wish to learn, you would only have to insist."

"You could do that. But me? No, it would not be right. Defiance in that manner would be improper."

"Proper," huffed Lucy derisively.

"Propriety is not so useless. It is what can make the winning difference in a negotiation."

"Yes, I know. You have more finesse than us three bumbling bears. It is not your only skill. You are a master, truly, with the bow. I cannot understand your hesitancy towards it."

"It is a weapon of war."

"Yes," Lucy agreed, "As are the sword and dagger, and yet I study them all."

The constant _twang _of their bowstrings had fallen silent and each held a quiet bow at their sides.

Susan laid a hand on Lucy's shoulder, "It is only for the purpose of defense." She tilted her head towards the targets, in a rare silent communication.

The two trekked across to gather their arrows and reset.

"It cannot be only for defense, Su. What a waste that would be."

Susan stared over a target at the younger queen, "What are you saying?"

"War is common, and we creatures are fickle. Shall we cower when foes arise and Narnia is imperiled? The able-bodied are called to defend. Am I not one of these souls?"

Several arrows clattered to the ground from Susan's failing grip, "Lucy, you are a still a _child!_"

She merely went on plucking her arrows from the target, "Yes. And one day I will not be. I am not deceived into believing that I would be now prepared for such a trial, but one day I shall be."

"I cannot imagine how you say such things. I care so little for violence. I've no wish to see anyone hurt, and blood twists my stomach. Would that differences could be settled without war."

"Do not mistake me. I do not wish for or long for war. I do not dream of glory in battle. We all wish that violence could be done away with, but wishing does not make it true."

"If you do not yearn for it then why are you so quick to run into a dispute? With so little knowledge or training, you are already convinced you have found the solution? War?"

Lucy jammed her arrows forcefully into her quiver as her eyebrows bespoke her frustration.

"My training has not been so neglected as you think. Every day, I drill on my own. Sword, dagger, bow, hand-to-hand with the garrison men. I feel it is my responsibility. When I am ready, I intend to be charging along with my people, hurting along with my people, fighting for and with my people. I will not allow fear to detain me."

"Fear? What of our brothers? They will not allow you to participate in fighting, I warn you. I vow to you, their intention in having you trained was not so that you could conjure these wild ideas."

"Oh, Susan. Why do you not see? I should have as much power over the decision as any of you do. Am I not queen?"

"Yes, but," she hesitated, "you haven't spoken of this plan before. They would not approve, and neither do I, we want you to make _wise_ decisions as a ruler."

"Not all decisions can be wise, and the only way to learn to make wiser ones is to make poor decisions first. You, none of you, have allowed me to make those mistakes."

Susan was incredulous, "Going to _war_ is not a decision to be mistaken about!"

"Do you think I do not know this? I speak to Aslan on all things. I am meant to be an active part of our nation's defense. It is neither my own or your decision to make. I am not afraid, neither should you be. How you can resist the same call to serve, I do not know."

"It is not fear that holds me back. I trust the bow in my hands, and I know myself to be a sure archer. But you must see, Lucy, that when I see anyone hurting, it pains me. I feel it more acutely, I believe, than you or the others. I could not bear to bring pain to any creature, not with my speech, and not with my bow."

"It is a beautiful thing, this sensitivity. It has been a boon to many, including myself. You are so careful to consider the feelings of others. But, Su, can you truly make yourself believe that such a gift of a bow and such a talent as yours are meant to go completely to waste? You know that this bow that aims true was a gift from Aslan himself, as indeed all our gifts were, no matter the messenger. Shall you continue to reject this gift and hold it in contempt?"

"You do make it sound so thoughtless, but I cannot see what else I might to do. I cannot fight, I do not have it within my spirit. I cannot help it, I am not so impassioned as you are."

Lucy gazed thoughtfully into the distance for a minute complete. The two had dropped any pretense of archery now. Her rejoinder was softer than before, "Do you consult only your own feelings, or do you ask Aslan, as well?"

"Perhaps when you are older you will understand me better. As for Aslan, well, you may yet find that you do not have it within you to fight, either. I pray that you do not, I have no need to worry over you. I am not certain you comprehend what war can take from an individual. Talking is one matter, but doing is another."

"It is no difference what power I myself hold. I do not need to be strong enough. I draw strength from outside myself, from Aslan. If you request His strength, He shall lend it to you. I trust that Aslan gives us no more than we can bear, with His assistance, of course."

Susan had no reply.

For Lucy, this was a step towards the discovery that Susan was not, after all, perfect. It was a step towards the discovery that Susan wasn't perfect, and that was fine. What would continue to trouble Lucy was not Susan's lack of perfection, for this was, in fact, a relieving discovery. What would trouble her more and more was Susan's casual treatment of Aslan's judgement. For it _was_, above all else, perfect. If the Gentle Queen could not acknowledge it, what would it mean for her?

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**I want a vote! Favorite chapter thus far?**

**Words-drip-from-my-fingertips**


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